Why can't I just take the ring after I fight Artorias?
by Gensh
Summary: Questioning only briefly why he's there anyway, a human from the real world ignores the rules of the game and drags Oscar of Astora on a grand adventure to discover the truth of the conflict between Light and Dark. But more importantly to impress his waifu.
1. Estus up the nose burns like Mt Dew

_In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, archtrees and everlasting dragons. But then there was Fire. And with Fire came Disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course... Light and Dark. Then from the Dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the first of the dead, the Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights, and the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten._

_With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the dragons were no more._

_Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign._

NORTHERN UNDEAD ASYLUM

_Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world... This is your fate._

The cell was spacious enough, all things considered: a tall square, with the walls far enough apart for even a giant to lie without twisting. That didn't stop the prisoner from doing exactly that, twisting like a pretzel and nuzzling even closer to the dank corner as he slept. A line of drool ran down his cheek like mold ran down the walls of the decaying asylum. He was a relatively young man with the stern looks and dull brown frock of a cleric of Thorolund. A mane of nearly-black hair picked up dirt and debris from the barren stone floor like a mop as he turned.

High above, much too high for anyone to reach, was a grate to let in light. It opened with a wretched creaking, and one of Astora's elite knights looked inside. Seeing the cleric there, he tiredly tossed the hollowed jailor's corpse in with him. The raisined zombie hit the cobblestone with a wet thud and a crunch.

"Wahauah!"

The cleric snapped awake at the sound and instinctively kicked away. There was a sharp thud now as he bashed his head into the stone wall.

"Ow fu- Wahauah!"

He leapt again as he saw the hideous, half-naked corpse mere feet from him. He quickly rose to his feet and backed into the corner, raising both arms defensively. After a moment, he realized that it was truly dead and relaxed a little. He glanced about the cell nervously, gulping.

"What? Where am I? What?"

His eyes followed the light. The knight said nothing but rose from his perch and walked away from the hole. The cleric turned deathly pale. Swiftly, he knelt and grabbed at the keyring on the corpse's waist. He fit the single key into the lock of his cell door and opened it. Ahead was a long hallway with hollowed prisoners vacantly pounding on the walls, unaware that they had already been freed from their own cells.

"This is the Asylum. I'm...I'm in Dark Souls. Whoever sent me here obviously wasn't paying attention because all those birthday wishes years ago were clearly about becoming a Pokemon trainer."

The sarcasm helped him calm down a little. Knowing what needed to be done, he jogged down the hallway. This was one of the few locations where the hollows were so far gone as to be completely docile. Well, if you didn't hit them first. Through the room with the pool and up the ladder he went, into the barren courtyard. Ahead lay the very first bonfire, unlit, the strange red-hot sword sticking proudly from the cinders.

"No doubt about it," the cleric said. "Here's hoping that I'm actually undead, because my total lack of coordination will soon be the death of me."

He walked over and extended his hand to the sword's handle. The sheer heat prevented him from taking hold of it, but a spark flitted from his fingertips to the sword, causing the dying embers to roar back to life. As he gazed at the flame, it seemed to engulf him. His whole body felt warm, and the cold clutch of fear abated a little. The image of the burning brand fixed itself in his mind, and he was certain this place was home.

Almost cheerily, he held up his other hand, enjoying the warmth after his sleep on the cold stone. His eyes narrowed as he noticed he wore a ring over his traveler's gloves. It was a dull red-brown with strange symbols etched into it.

"Old Witch's Ring, huh? The Master Key would have resulted in less crying, but at least I can get the least awful ending now."

He rubbed his hands together and clapped, psyching himself up for what came next. He rolled his shoulders and walked up to the big double-doors, shoving them open without breaking his stride. The room was huge, with a tall ceiling supported by numerous columns. Numerous man-sized clay pots line the walls. He looked up to the balcony on the third (fourth?) floor opposite him. There was a grotesquely obese stone-skinned demon sporting a stone club the size of a pillar. He fixated on the club.

"Alas, Demon's Great Hammer, I shall not wield thee on this playthrough." He paused. "You know, I still have no idea what this room even is. Oh well."

With that, he ran to the left wall and down the length of the room. The hideous (and foul-smelling, he now realized) demon leapt down from its perch, causing the tile floor to explode with the force of its falling hammer. A shard nicked the cleric's exposed face as he made a swift turn into a darkened passage. A metal grate fell behind him, preventing him from returning the way he came. This was another room with a pool, but it also held a bonfire. He reached out to ignite it, and the strange internal perception of "home" he held shifted to mean this fire.

"Here. We. Go!"

The cleric dashed out of the room and ducked into a cell with a broken door to avoid an arrow. There was a dead, rotten hollow lying face-down in a pool of water. It clutched an item he instinctively knew was his – a cheap-looking wooden shield painted with an imperial eagle.

"Hm. I wonder," he said. "Since I'm real and can smell and such, how does item storage work? Is this a man-purse of holding?"

He opened the large satchel hung from his back and forcibly stuffed the shield into it. After some mild deformation, the bag returned to normal and didn't seem any heavier.

"Yes."

He slid around the corner and back into the long hallway. The hollow archer began to draw another arrow but realized the cleric was too close and shambled away into another passage. Another dead hollow lay shriveled on the ground – and this one with a flanged mace. He grabbed the weapon and whirled into around the corner, intuitively gripping the mace with two hands.

The hollow stood at the top of a staircase and fired another shot. The cleric rolled under and rose swinging, striking its head with enough force to snap its neck. Whitish-blue wisps erupted from its body and rushed to fill the cleric's lungs. He felt infinitesimally stronger with the addition of the zombie's soul energy.

"Well, this is convenient," the he mused. "I have no idea what I'm doing consciously, but this body's muscle memory matches the game. I would have totally tripped and faceplanted."

He rolled his shoulders again and looked ahead at the impenetrable white fog. He approached it slowly, letting his body do what it knew best. He reached out to it with one hand, and it swirled about, dispersing as he stepped through. He shivered.

"Oh, cold! It's like wading into a pool!"

He jogged across the half-collapsed second floor until he reached the stairs. He took a few steps up and promptly rolled to the right and down two half-storeys, landing in the middle of another staircase. An inexplicably-placed boulder rolled down the first staircase and crashed through the wall.

"Oh yeah!" the cleric said, sprinting back up to the second floor and into the hole.

There was the elite knight, lying on a bed of rubble, his steel armor and oiled leathers gleaming in the dim light of the collapsed room. It took him a moment to realize that the cleric had entered his chosen resting place.

"Oh, you... You're no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness. I'm done for, I'm afraid. I'll die soon, then lose my sanity. I wish to ask something-"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"We have immortality on a level that liches only dream of! Stop complaining and get up!"

"I'm afraid I-"

"No! Shut up and drink your Estus!"

The cleric ripped a green flask from the knight's belt and began to pour radiant golden liquid through the knight's visor. The knight choked a little as the Estus went everywhere but his mouth. Impending hollowing or not, his survival instincts kicked in, and he flailed to get away from the cleric, falling off of the pile of bricks and coughing the burning liquid out of his lungs.

"Who are you?" he wheezed.

"Let's go with...uh...Lex of Luthor."

Lex did his best to look wise as he spoke. Unfortunately, he was dressed like a city priest while the debris in his hair made him look more like a mountain hermit.

"The fates would have had you die here, Oscar of Astora. I was interested in whether they could be defied. It seems they can, assuming you don't wimp out and keel over right there."

"Believe me," he coughed. "I am more than annoyed enough to stay sane a little longer. You said that my fate was to die here; I have come in pursuit of a prophecy."

"The Fate of the Undead. I possess a gift of foresight. I know how it might be fulfilled."

"How strange that the gods would send me a prophet in my darkest hour."

"Oh, it's only going to get darker from here. But I'll go into further detail later. First we must escape this asylum. You have the key – let's head downstairs to the bonfire to refresh before we try and tackle the Asylum Demon."

Oscar nodded, rising and holding up the key to the eastern half of the Asylum. He took up his straight sword and elaborately-embellished shield and joined the cleric. They headed down the staircase, and Oscar opened the door leading back to the courtyard. Both extended one hand to the bonfire, feeling the strength of Flame fill their bodies and the Estus Flask. Reinvigorated, they headed back up two flights of stairs and beat down a hollow blocking the door to the outside balcony. Oscar unlocked this door as well, and they were greeted with a view of a distant valley beyond the crumbling walls.

Lex jogged forward to the third and final dead hollow in possession of one of his confiscated items – his canvas talisman. He stared at the bundle of cloth and twine. Sure, the sensation of casting miracles came unbidden to his mind as he had expected it to, but the talisman was almost indistinguishable from a low-quality handkerchief. He definitely approved of the change to elaborate chimes in the sequel. He had felt a little buzz when he had poured the Estus down Oscar's throat, which meant they could both make use of the Flask, but it didn't hurt to have additional healing.

"Three hollows around the corner. Two are just zombies with broken swords, but the one in back will shoot us while we're dealing with them," he said, turning back.

"Shall I lead with my shield?"

"Nah, I'll just aggro them, and we'll wail on them when they follow me."

"Aggro?"

Lex dashed around the corner. The zombies groaned menacingly, and the one with the bow nocked an arrow. Lex turned and rolled away, sliding back around the corner and readying his mace. Oscar understood immediately and stood beside him. When the zombies rounded the corner, both men swung their weapons, killing them and releasing their souls.

Lex rounded the corner a third time and rolled under an arrow to smash the zombie's sternum. He gave it a second strike as it stumbled backward, killing it. Oscar approached, and they turned to face another wall of white fog.

"This ought to be even easier with two people," Lex said. "So the plan is: we enter the fog and jump onto its fat head. Aim for the beady little eyes."

"Seems simple enough," Oscar replied, "but will such a ferocious creature be so easily defeated? It crushed most of my ribs in our last encounter."

"It's strong, but it has a glass jaw. If you'd been able to get a few hits in, you could have killed it easily. It's the one beneath this one that's difficult."

"A second one?!"

"Relax. We'll be fine as long as the floor doesn't give out immediately."

"If you say so."

Lex pushed through the fog, cringing at the sensation. He and Oscar were now standing on the balcony from which the demon had jumped.

"Now, before it flies back up!"

The cleric and the knight took flying leaps from the balcony. Lex showed off the pretzel twisting he had done in his sleep and spun in the air, striking off one of the demon's horns with a tremendous crack. Oscar plunged straight down, the great weight of his armor lending force to his straight sword as it tore into the demon's eye and through to the brain. It convulsed and exploded into souls as Lex and Oscar found their footing on the shattered tiles. With a clank, the key to the exit before them fell to the floor.

"Where could the demon have kept that?" Oscar asked, bewildered.

"I don't want to know," Lex said, picking it up and holding it away from his body as if it was contaminated.

He fitted it into the lock and opened the door. Oscar walked the path up the hill to get a better view of the valley beyond while Lex ran down some side paths to grab items. Soon, they both stood at the top of the hill. The hill was the top of a sheer cliff. The valley beyond was their destination.

_Only, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an Undead shall be chosen…_

Abruptly, a pair of giant ravens fell upon them. Before they could react, the massive talons had grasped their arms, and they were taken aloft.

_...to leave the Undead asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of the ancient Lords._

_Lordran._


	2. Anastacia is too shy to talk to boys

FIRELINK SHRINE

The two gazed out on the scenery of Lordran as they approached, the valley becoming more discreetly a beautiful mess of hills and canyons. Some ruins appeared in the distance, and the ravens dove toward them, unceremoniously dropping the pair to the ground before a bonfire before wheeling around and taking roost in a ruined chapel nearby. Lex and Oscar rose and dusted themselves off. Sitting on a fallen wall near the bonfire was a warrior in chain armor. He was hunched over and stared aimlessly into the bonfire but looked up when he noticed the commotion.

"Well, what do we have here? You must be new arrivals. Let me guess. Fate of the Undead, right? Well, you're not the first. But there's no salvation here. You'd have done better to rot in the Undead Asylum… But, too late now.

Well, since you're here… Let me help you out. There are actually two Bells of Awakening. One's up above, in the Undead Church. The other is far, far below, in the ruins at the base of Blighttown.

Ring them both, and something happens… Brilliant, right? Not much to go on, but I have a feeling that won't stop you. So, off you go. It is why you came, isn't it? To this accursed land of the Undead?"

With his explanation over, he began to chuckle despairingly. Lex walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, my friend. We would have been terribly lost without you."

"Don't try to butter me up. I won't join your silly little party."

Lex turned about and motioned to Oscar. They both attuned to the bonfire before heading down the stairs on the back of the ruins.

"He's actually terribly resilient despite his appearance. He's not fated to go hollow until both Bells have been rung."

"This is strange to me. The prophecy as my family told it said that there was only one Bell. It might be mistaken, but why would there be a second Bell?"

Lex shrugged.

"The gods are all-too-fond of testing their Chosen. The two Bells, Sen's Fortress, and Anor Londo are all trials before the Chosen will even be entrusted with their true task."

"Have you undergone many of these tests, Prophet Lex?"

"Maybe testing my patience with Bed of Chaos..." he grumbled, but he didn't speak further on it.

They walked around the short cliff that separated this level from the one above, and Lex motioned toward a depression in its face. Rusted iron bars blocked off a hole in the stone, and inside the darkened cave was a young woman in filthy robes, a hood hiding her face. While the man above hung his head in resignation, this girl was completely slumped over in misery.

"Have you ever seen a Fire Keeper, Oscar? You know, they're usually buried so that no one can see them, but perhaps this one was revealed by mistake. Even I don't know."

Oscar genuflected, bowing his head.

"Thank you for your selfless service in maintaining this bonfire."

The woman cringed a little. Lex shook his head.

"She can't speak and isn't used to being spoken to. Her tongue's been cut out."

"What?"

"Our friend upstairs believes it was done to keep her from cursing the gods. I doubt she's even spirited enough to curse them in her heart." He paused. "I'll go ahead and spoil the ending now. If we Link the Fires, we can save her. But in a thousand years, all of this will happen again."

Oscar was silent for a bit.

"That's madness. Surely the gods would not allow such a thing?"

"The gods are as bound by the cycle as anyone else. No. If anything, they are so bound to it that even a small change might erase them altogether."

"A world without gods? I cannot imagine what it would be like."

"It's much the same. Men just worship Kings instead. But come. We've work to do."

Lex turned back and ascended the stairs. Oscar lingered for a moment but soon followed, finding the cleric taking something from a desiccated corpse hanging over the side of a well. Lex nodded at him and pointed up the hill. There were a number of hollows standing about vacantly, though unlike those at the Asylum, these had scraps of armor and weapons that were mostly intact.

"Go ahead through here. Watch out for the one on the cliff – it'll throw firebombs at you. I'm going to make a quick run through the chapel and the graveyard to collect supplies."

"That hardly seems fair, Prophet."

"I'm going to be running between the blades of angry skeletons twice a man's height. Would you rather do it, weighed down by your armor as you are?"

"All right, you've made your point. I'll meet you at the top."

Lex gave a quick salute and turned to run back to the chapel. Up the stairs to the corpse above the broken lift to the Undead Parish, then down into the lift shaft to the unexplained group of chests below. Over to the corpse on the cliff facing the shrine, then up the stairs and around the remains of the second floor to the corpse on the other side. He dropped down into the flooded floor and past the scimitar-wielding skeletons that had followed him and proceeded past their awakening friends to the cliff above the Catacombs entrance.

"Crapcrapcrapcrap."

A mob of skeletons was approaching, and he soon would have no room to evade among the tombstones. Lex squeezed through as they approached and rolled under a wave of blades. He managed a smirk as he watched the zweihander and winged spear slowly disappear into his bag. Huffing and puffing, he made his way back to the bonfire and reached out to it, resetting the area. Suddenly, he recoiled in shock.

"That probably messed with Oscar. Shiiiiiiiiit."

He sprinted up the hill to find his suspicions confirmed – the hollows had been revived with the resurgence of Fire. Oscar stood on the aqueduct at the top of the hill, fighting a hollow he had just recently vanquished. Lex rushed forward and smashed the first hollow's skull with his mace. The next dropped from the stairwell in an absentminded attempt to ambush him, but he hit this one hard in the side, sending it sprawling. The corpse of the firebomb-thrower fell from above, and when he looked up, Oscar looked down expectantly.

"What did you do?"

"It's not as bad outside Lordran, but using the bonfire warps time. Aside from restoring any ailments we might have, it also restores any enemies to their original positions and statuses."

"You chose to do this while I was standing amidst defeated hollows?"

"I forgot. And the alternative was leading a bunch of angry skeletons up to you."

"Prophets are often hailed as eccentrics, but I have the feeling you are simply a fool."

"Eh. Jester's set isn't in this game anyway."

"I'm not going to ask."

Lex headed up the staircase to the aqueduct, and together, they entered the interior. Lex turned left and killed a giant rat before he and Oscar followed the right path to another staircase.

UNDEAD BURG

As they came up the stairs, a hollow moved to attack them while a second began to close the distance. Lex sidestepped and moved to intercept the one in back while Oscar stepped onto the rooftop. They both swung their weapons and swiftly vanquished the zombies. Ahead was a wooden bridge connecting this rooftop to the next.

"I'm going to rush across and take out the firebomb-thrower straight ahead. Follow me and block the ambusher to the left."

Oscar nodded, and Lex dashed across the bridge to hit the hollow with a spinning blow. Oscar walked across the bridge and deflected a handaxe with his shield as another hollow stumbled out of a doorway. He stabbed through its ribcage, slaying it quickly. Lex entered the second storey of the building to the right and grabbed something off of the corpse lying under the stairwell before heading up to face a fog wall.

"Don't panic."

Without giving explanation, he dispersed the fog and put one foot on the bridge connecting this building to the next. Oscar walked up behind him just in time to see a massive dragon briefly land before them, shaking the buildings with the violence of its arrival. Its man-sized talons were mere inches from Lex, but he was perfectly calm, bored even. Just as swiftly as it had come, the dragon pushed off again and rose above the Burg.

"Yeah, you better run, you shitty bastard!" Lex began shouting at it as it flew. "You and your bullshit instant death flames!"

"A dragon! You could have told me!"

"Eh. It's just a drake. It's fated to spook the Chosen Undead at this very spot, but they do not come to blows until later." He paused to think about his own playthroughs. "Or never."

"Please give me a clearer warning the next time we are to face such a monster."

Lex shrugged.

"Yeah, sure."

They approached the next rooftop. There were two hollows approaching them, and with a terrible clattering, a third broke through some wooden barrier which was hiding it.

"Crossbowman up top. Watch out while you're fighting."

Lex rushed forward and bashed one. As it fell, he kept going and ducked under the parapet where the crossbow-wielding hollow was shooting. He opened the door, took a shield from the desiccated corpse inside, stuffed it in his bag, and turned to face another hollow. He backstepped to avoid an attack, only for Oscar to jab his sword through its back.

"For a prophet, you are quite lacking in awareness."

"No, see, that's why elite clerics wear heavy armor."

For the first time, Oscar laughed a little.

"I suppose that must be true."

"Come on, then. We just need to take out that last hollow.

Oscar went up the stairs first this time, his shield raised high. He blocked a cheap iron bolt and walked closer. In response, the hollow put down its crossbow and drew a broadsword from its belt. As it swung at Oscar's waiting shield, Lex walked around and smashed the back of its head in.

"Bonfire, ho!"

Lex pointed his mace behind Oscar, revealing a large tower missing one wall, with a bonfire in the middle of the open room. The pair approached it and extended hands to attune to it but did not activate its restorative properties.

"Grand. Now we need to see the merchant. I suppose for the sake of brevity, I can forgo looting the rest of the place. Not much anyway: just a few souls and some humanity."

"A merchant! I was worried the whole Burg was hollow! I can't imagine how a town of this size went hollow all at once."

"Oh, it's worse than you know. Only the merchant still has his wits – and even that is a little questionable. He talks to his sword, you know. No doubt it's the only thing he has left to care about after he had to use it to cut through his friends and neighbors. Or something. Another blind spot in my knowledge."

Oscar sighed.

"So what is our purpose here, Prophet?"

"The lift to the Undead Parish is jammed. We have to cross the Burg into the far side and make our way to the belfry. And we shall meet a grand companion along the way."

"So be it," Oscar said. "I don't think I can look at desolation like this for much longer."


	3. Let me axe you a question

The journey to the merchant was short but eventful. Lex had told Oscar to wait on the bridge to a rooftop where two armored hollows with spears stood guard. He proceeded alone and verbally harassed one of the hollows until it attacked him – not because it could understand what he said but because he certainly wasn't making any effort to defend himself. Lex flailed wildly before being stabbed horrifically in the gut.

The cleric rolled back onto the bridge, refused Oscar's help, and healed himself with his talisman before rushing back toward the hollows. This process repeated a few times before he got the timing right. At long last, he deflected the incoming spear with the back of his free hand and followed up with a brutal swing of his mace, knocking the hollow's head clean off.

"Now you try," he had said.

Oscar showed immediately that he understood the concept of parrying. Lex hung his head a little and took out his inadequacy on another hollow that was hiding behind a bookcase downstairs. On the balcony outside was another hollow by the looks of it, but Lex held Oscar back.

"Well, now… You seem to have your wits about you, hmm? Then you are a welcome customer! I trade for souls. Everything's for sale!"

The undead began cackling wildly while lovingly polishing a long, thin blade.

"I need that key of yours," Lex said. "A thousand souls should be fine, no?"

"Oh, the night watchman's key, hm? You're welcome to it. I doubt there's much left worth stealing. Little Yulia and I picked the place clean when we arrived."

He began chuckling again.

"I need it to free a bumbling spy who somehow managed to get tied up and trapped in a barrel."

Oscar stared at him blankly. Technically, every stare was blank with a helmet on, but he didn't even muster a silent response. The merchant didn't seem fazed.

"I have it right here, if you have the souls."

He held out a single iron key. Lex nodded and took a deep breath. He willed a fraction of the souls he had collected so far to coalesce and exhaled. The whitish-blue soul mist billowed out of his nose and toward the merchant. The merchant inhaled the souls through the rotten hole where his nose should have been with a grin.

"Thank you kindly," he said before laughing once more and tossing the key to Lex.

With the key secured, the pair headed back to the bonfire to discuss their next move. Lex briefly explained the geography and enemy positioning within the rest of the upper Burg. Oscar nodded, and they were on their way. They dashed across the bridge, and Lex ran through the room to strike the hollow in back while Oscar killed the one in front. The wooden door on the left opened, and another hollow rushed in, only to be struck by sword and mace at once.

They ducked into the interior of the house next door and slew the hollow in the first room. Lex moved on to the dining room to retrieve the black firebombs while Oscar went out to the balcony and quickly stabbed the hollow there before it could react. They regrouped at the staircase outside.

"Back me up," Lex said quickly before dashing up the stairs.

Three hollows were straight ahead. The one in the back moved to throw a firebomb, but Lex rushed between the first two and took it out with his mace. Oscar hustled to the hollows as fast as he could with his heavy armor. Lex quickly rolled away from a falling axe and retaliated with a bone-shattering mace swing. Oscar took the other hollow by surprise and made short work of it.

"I think I'm beginning to see the appeal of forgoing armor," Oscar said, panting.

"Eh. Depends on your fighting style. And if you've got enough endurance and the right magic rings, you can wear a decent amount while staying mobile. Of course, the greatest of warriors wear heavy breastplates and compensate for the weight by forgoing pants."

"Not wearing greaves seems-"

"I said pants. Not just greaves. They don't wear trousers either."

A terrible groan echoed within Oscar's helmet.

"I'll take the firebomb-throwers. You get that crossbowman."

Lex turned to the building they had just passed and climbed the rusty old ladder. He tiptoed across the rooftop to the scaffolding on which three hollows stood. The first, he killed with an unexpected attack. He dodged a pair of explosions before doubling back and hitting the next hollow with a spinning swing. As the final hollow moved to throw, he circled around and kicked it off, its body shattering on the cobblestone some six or seven storeys below. With that accomplished, he grabbed the soul clump, walked back to the rooftop, and hopped down to the courtyard where Oscar was waiting.

"For the next part, parrying will make everything much easier. You take the front; I'll take the back." He paused. "That sounds a little vulgar."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, you are innocent."

"Wha-?"

"So this is what a soul looks like uncorrupted by the internet!"

Oscar sighed. He wasn't about to feed Lex's melodrama. Without saying anything, he turned and began to walk down the next staircase, where a pair of hollow soldiers waited for him on a parapet. Lex shook his head and used the key he'd gotten from the merchant to unlock a nearby house. He went out the back door and retrieved the gold pine resin from the chest in the garden before leaping over the fence to confront a third hollow. While it was distracted by Oscar, he hit it in the back of the head, killing it.

Oscar had riposted after parrying the first hollow's spear, killing it. The remaining hollow turned back and forth, unsure which opponent to engage. Oscar slapped its shield with the flat of his sword, staggering it, while Lex gave it a fierce blow with his mace.

"Nice teamwork!" Lex said, giving a thumbs up. "Now, to spring the trap! Wait on the first step."

Lex moved on to yet another staircase. He ran up past a bend and took a few steps more. A flaming barrel began rolling toward him, so he turned heel and sprinted back past Oscar. Behind him, the barrel rolled over the bend and into the walkway below. It still wasn't safe, though, as the hollow that had rolled the barrel blindly chased after him. Oscar blocked its running swing with his shield and followed up with a sword to the gut.

"Yeah!" Lex shouted, starting to get much too into the game. "There's just one more thing to do in this area, then."

The pair walked up the staircase and into the circular tower. They ascended still further up the spiral staircase along the tower's inside wall, stopping on the third floor. Above was the tower's roof, judging by the sunlight streaming through the shoddy patchwork, but the stairs to the top were broken. While Oscar looked at the fog gate straight ahead, Lex turned and stared at some barrels against the wall.

"Yo, Oscar."

The knight looked over his shoulder.

"When I say go, break the first barrel over the stairs."

"Why?"

Lex looked bewildered.

"That is a _very_ good question. Plan B: I'll open the lid, and you stab inside violently."

"I think the difference between a prophet and a madman might be that people can understand what a prophet is saying."

"Look, there's a lizard inside, and we need to skin it. Don't worry about ruining the skin when you're stabbing. The skin itself can't be damaged, so you're basically going to be killing the lizard with brutal blunt force trauma."

Oscar shook his head but turned and held his sword aloft.

"I'm ready."

Lex opened the top of the barrel quickly. Sure enough, there was a fat blue lizard inside with some sort of broken shell. Oscar hit it fiercely between the pieces, killing it instantly.

"I thought you said the skin couldn't be pierced. Should I doubt your other visions?"

"I figured more of the skin would be titanite," Lex said, shrugging.

"Titanite? The iron of the gods?"

"Yeah. We'll see what kind the lizard had embedded in it later. For now, just toss it in my bag."

Oscar was unsure how to feel about his companion carrying a dead lizard around, but he complied and hefted the lizard out of the barrel, placing it gingerly in Lex's bag. The cleric let the flap back down and swung it into position on his hip before walking back to the fog. He dispersed it, revealing a long ruined bridge. The pair stepped out onto it and gazed out at the beauty of the surrounding sunlit countryside.

"What a gorgeous view," Oscar said.

"Verbatim," Lex noted.

"What?"

"Be wary of elation. Fatty ahead."

Oscar stared at Lex again.

"Fine. Kill my fun. Behind us is a ladder with two crossbowmen at the top, so be careful. I'm going to aggro the big scary thing on the other side of the bridge."

"Was that so hard?"

"You know, some people hate spoilers. I mean, are fearful of prescience."

"I came here desperately chasing a prophecy. Do you think I would mind knowing what sort of enemies are lurking around the next corner? Go ahead and do what you said while I get rid of the hollows above."

Lex nodded and walked halfway across the bridge at a leisurely pace. He looked up at the tower he had left to see Oscar wave back. He had made swift work of the hollows. Lex continued until he was three-quarters of the way across, when a giant minotaur wielding a stone axe that dwarfed even the Asylum Demon's club leapt down from the opposite tower. The cleric immediately broke into a sprint toward Oscar's tower.

He ran out of breath a few feet short but walked to the ladder and swiftly began climbing. As he neared the top. The stone axe breezed just below his feet and caused the iron ladder to reverberate, threatening to throw him off. Oscar dove to the side of the tower and extended a hand. Lex grabbed him and scampered up to the top.

"Just like before!" Lex shouted, adrenaline pumping. "Let's hit him before he decides to join us up here!"

With that, he and Oscar stood and made running jumps off the edge. This time, Lex's club rebounded off of the demon's tough skull, and he fell at its feet, trapped between the hulking monster and the restored fog wall. Oscar fared a little better, the extra momentum from his armor causing him to slide down its back as he cut. Lex swore and dove awkwardly between the demon's legs as it swung again. Oscar pulled him to his feet and out of immediate danger as the monster turned.

The demon hefted its axe back for a lunging swing, so the pair backpedaled slowly and hit either side when its attack crashed into the stone floor. Now the monster lowered its head and tried to charge them. They sprinted away, though Oscar lagged behind by quite a bit. Though the demon wasn't able to run him down, it did manage to keep up with him. It swung wildly, but the knight was able to backstep in time.

"Under it, Oscar! We'll hit it from both sides!"

As it lunged at him, Oscar rolled under it, his armor making a terrible racket as he flopped. By the time he was back to his feet, it had already turned and was readying another attack. Lex was charging at its back, but he wouldn't be in time to stop the next blow.

"Just like you said!" Oscar shouted, starting to catch Lex's excitement.

The immense stone axe came down vertically, and the elite knight swung his shield up to deflect it.

"That shit's too big to parry!"

Unfortunately, Oscar lacked perfect knowledge of the game's mechanics. Strangely, that didn't matter. The stone axe bounced off of his shield, and the redirected force of the swing caused the demon to stumble backward. There was an eternal moment where it sought its balance, but the moment passed, and it tumbled backward off the bridge and into the valley below. An enormous rush of soul force rose from the trees and filled the adventurers as Lex approached Oscar, gaping.

"That. Is. Not possible."

"I just did it. Isn't seeing believing?"

Oscar's tone was pained.

"No, I mean-" Lex paused. "Is it because fate has already been changed? In a million times, in a million worlds, you died in the Asylum. In a million times, in a million worlds, parrying the Taurus Demon was impossible. Oscar, do you know what this means?"

"That my arm is broken?"

"Oh, stop being a baby and just drink some Estus. We didn't even use any on the way here. But no! In all honesty, when I tried to save your life, I half-expected to fail. I broke the rules, and you're alive. Now you're breaking the rules too."

He paused, nodding.

"Let's break all the rules. Let's save the goddamned world! None of this depressing cycle of Light and Dark shit!"

"Cycle? Dark?" Oscar asked, about to take a swig of Estus.

"Right. Forgot to mention that it's technically possible for the Age of Fire to give way to the Age of Dark. It never happens, though. It doesn't matter how many Chosen fail or attempt to become the Dark Lord instead; it only takes one to Link the Fire."

"Now there's a _Dark_ Lord? We need to have a long talk, Prophet Lex."

"Sure, I guess. But let's move on for now. We're going to meet everyone's best friend shortly."


	4. Senpai noticed me

The pair continued onward into the tower that the demon had been guarding. Lex grabbed a clump of souls hidden under some boxes, and they continued down the stairs. This tower opened onto a much larger bridge than the one they had just crossed and which ran perpendicular to the former.

"You know, I don't know much about defenses and such," Lex said, "but I haven't the foggiest as to why this exists."

He handed Oscar the binoculars he had taken from the graveyard.

"See, look over there. There's a grated entrance in order to protect against intruders as if the bridge actually led anywhere. Look behind us – it's a damned balcony! What were they trying to defend against?"

Oscar put down the binoculars and followed Lex's flailing gesture. He squinted and raised his visor for the first time. Though an experienced knight, he had a fair, boyish face and clear blue eyes. He looked through the binoculars again.

"It can't be," he said, walking toward the balcony.

Ahead stood the most noble soul in all Lordran. It was a knight in stout armor with a white tunic over it. A brilliant red plume on the helmet wagged in the faint breeze as the knight basked in the light of Lordran's perpetual summer sun.

"Captain!" Oscar cried, running over to him.

"Oh?" the knight said, turning on one foot. "Oscar! I thought I would never see you again!"

Solaire of Astora now turned to face the newcomers, the sun glinting off his helm.

"I mean no offense, but why are you here? Has something happened?"

Oscar approached his fellow knight, a dreary look on his face.

"I was killed, I'm afraid… I was given a duty without honor, and I hesitated. When I woke, I decided to leave before the others learned what had become of me. I followed an old saying passed down in my family to the Undead Asylum, seeking my fate. My mission almost failed there, but I was saved by the prophet here, Lex of Luthor."

He gestured to the cleric, who gave a hearty wave but said nothing.

"Oh, hello there!" Solaire said. "You have my thanks. When I came to this land, I had expected to never see any of my friends again. I would be pleased to count you among their number."

"Likewise," Lex said, nodding. "I actually intend to pledge my service at the altar on the other side of the bridge, but my foresight shows that reaching it will not be an easy task."

"Magnificent! I am blessed to have met such a champion of faith! Both a prophet and a warrior of the sun! Oscar, will you join us as well?"

"This is not Astora, and my knightly vows are ended with my death. I owe nothing now to the Way of White and may even resent it. It may be heresy, but I will join this Covenant."

"This pleases me greatly! I won't keep you from making your vows. But take this."

He placed a stick of soapstone in Oscar's hands.

"We are amidst strange beings, in a strange land. The flow of time itself is convoluted, with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. There's no telling how much longer your world and mine will remain in contact. But, use this, to summon one another as spirits, cross the gaps between the worlds, and engage in jolly co-operation!

Of course, we are not the only one engaged in this. But I am a warrior of the sun! Spot my summon signature easily by its brilliant aura. If you miss it, you must be blind!"

With that, he chuckled and turned about to gaze off the end of the balcony once more.

"I will stay behind to gaze at the sun. The sun is a wondrous body. Like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent!"

Oscar watched Solaire watching the sun for a moment before joining Lex in the shadow of the upper bridge.

"So you knew Solaire," Lex said. "And it sounds as if you have a story to tell as much as I do."

"It is nothing special," Oscar replied. "The Darksign brings out the worst in people… I do not mean those who bear it. The Undead, even those who kept a firm grasp of their sanity and were otherwise innocent, were taken to that rotting Asylum. When they became too many to cast out, whole towns were left to fend for themselves while the noble houses sealed themselves away and pretended it was not happening.

Do not misunderstand; had I lived, I would have soon inherited my father's county. But my order was commanded to guard such men as my father, the king, and his sons while they tried to feast through the end of the world. In the end, it was not the Undead which overran us. It was our own people."

Oscar took a deep breath.

"I did not tell the captain because I did not want him to blame himself. After he left, we became dispirited and offered less resistance to what my father and the others demanded. I thought that perhaps learning the Fate of the Undead would redeem my family's name."

"A fine gesture," Lex commented, "but sons paying for the sins of their fathers is a story too old for my tastes. What is it that you want, personally? Like in the Asylum, you won't last long if all that's motivating you is obligation – and that I won't shut up and let you die in peace."

"No, that is part of it," Oscar said. "I want to redeem my family's name. I want to make the captain proud. I may also want to find what it means to live for myself. I was groomed for my role from birth, so with only the shadow of death hanging above me, nothing is stopping me from seeing what else there is to life."

He smiled a bit, his eyes growing a bit brighter.

"What about you, Lex? Do you enjoy being a prophet? What god do you serve, who would allow you to join the Covenant of another?"

"Uhhhhhhh… I have certainly enjoyed it this far, though I came into my powers rather, uh, recently. I serve, uh… Slaanesh! The goddess of, uh, perfection. She expects her worshipers to experience as many things as they can so that they might pursue perfection in a perfectly unique manner. Technically."

"Technically?"

"Most adherents are blindly hedonistic. For me, that was more of a fringe benefit. The gods of, uh, Luthor tend to have a fixation on chastity. While we're here in Lordran, I hope to find a special lady friend, if you know what I mean. As for my long-term goals, I intend to go thoroughly mad with power and punch out the Primordial Serpents' teeth."

Oscar gave him a nasty look before shutting the visor of his helmet and looking over the hollows guarding the bridge.

"I know nothing of your homeland, so I will take what you say about your goddess at face value. As for the rest, I fear you may already be hollowing."

Lex rolled his shoulders and grinned.

"Well, you'll be the first to know, won't you?"

He held out his mace and pointed.

"See that staircase on the right, halfway across? And see those scorch marks along the entire length of the bridge? Yeah. We're going to need to outrun that drake we saw earlier. Can you manage in that armor?"

"I don't know. Aren't you the prophet? Shouldn't you know how long it takes to reach the stairs?"

Lex held both hands to his lips in a thoughtful gesture.

"Well, you should be prepared to be burned half to death. Or all the way to death. I'm not sure how durable you are. I'm certainly going to make it, so when you resurrect at the bonfire, just look for the ladder I'm going to drop."

"Shouldn't a warrior of sunlight be more… sunny? Like the captain?"

"The Lord of Sunlight is a hollow, and I am more than justified in being morbid. Now get your fatrolling ass ready to run. On go. Three, two, one, go!"

The pair broke into a dead sprint diagonally across the first half of the bridge. There was a great wingbeat overhead, followed by a roar. Lex took a flying leap down into the stairwell. Out of breath and weighed down by his armor, Oscar dove to the ground and slid onto the top step as a wave of flame surged across the length of the bridge.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" Oscar said as he continued sliding down, step by step.

The back of his tabard was alight, but he seemed more or less fine. This time, Lex helped him to his feet rather than the other way around. They were in a storage room of some sort.

"This way," Lex said, pointing to a door with still more stairs.

As they entered, Oscar noted that it was indeed the square room containing the bonfire they had left some time earlier. Now, though, they were a few storeys above the ground, and the stairs had crumbled halfway to the ground. Lex walked over to something on the ledge and kicked at it. A rusty iron ladder slid all the way to the ground.

"They must have broken the stairs and taken up the ladder when the Burg went hollow," he said, scratching his chin. "Fat lot of good it did them."

Oscar solemnly considered the sort of desperation must have been involved.

"So we're halfway there," Lex said, changing the subject. "But we're going to cheat a little bit before continuing. You noticed how when the drake blasted the bridge, we got the souls of the hollows it killed?"

Oscar nodded.

"Right, so we are going to abuse the hell out of it. Remember how when I touched the bonfire at the Shrine, it revived the hollows you were standing next to? I'm going to find a safe place upstairs and shout insults at the drake. When it attacks, it'll kill the hollows. Whenever you feel that you've gained their souls, activate the bonfire and reset time."

"That is fiendishly clever."

"You mispronounced lazy."


	5. I'll spear you the details

"Well, that was a huge timesink," Lex said as Oscar climbed the ladder back up to the bridge.

They'd both used their souls, and now Oscar was able to move reasonably well in his armor, breaking the curse of fat-rolling NPCs. Now they'd reached some arbitrary breakpoint Lex had decided upon and were ready to move on. He led Oscar up the stairs and into the storeroom.

"If you head out that door, there's one hollow on the platform and another on the ledge. After the ledge is a room full of giant rats. Once you've cleared it out, take the ladder and go outside toward the grate. Wait there for me."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I'm going to harass the drake some more and try to make a break for the main entrance. The grate only opens from the outside for some reason. If we want to get to that altar and a more convenient bonfire, then I need to get to that lever."

"Should I worry about you dying?"

"No. I may die – I may even die several times – but there's only one hollow that will be able to see you after you're out of the rat room, and it won't come after you as long as you stand by the grate. Just don't climb the turret; one of Gwyn's Black Knights is there. You can get in a surprise attack, but fighting it at this point is risky."

"I understand. I'll see you on the other side."

With that, Oscar walked off onto the bridge supports. Lex turned about and headed upstairs to face the drake. It noticed him as soon as he reached the bridge's surface, and he sprinted past a hollow soldier to the other side of the bridge, taking cover behind one of the cutouts at the halfway point.

"You know, I don't know what these are either. I should probably do some research if the books in the Archives turn out to be readable."

A wave of flame rushed across the bridge, flowing right past his protected corner. The hollows which had been slowly approaching him from behind collapsed into charred heaps. As he caught his breath, he felt even more souls flow into him.

"Oscar's about to enter the rat room. Let's see… One… two… three… There, that's all the rats."

He peeked up over the edge at the drake.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, you overgrown newt!"

As the drake beat its great wings and screamed, he abruptly realized that he probably could have made it across without doing this if he just had Oscar activate the bonfire repeatedly so that the monster couldn't move. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that as the massive beast leapt at him, landing on the bridge just around the corner from his hiding place.

"Yeah! Get some!" the cleric shouted, rushing out of cover and directly underneath it.

He kicked its foot in fury, and it responded in kind by clawing at him. Lex was no longer there, however, having run under its belly and straight for the open entryway behind it. The drake wasn't pleased with its prey escaping and pivoted as swiftly as its large body could. It took a deep draw of air and unleashed another torrent of fire. Panicking, Lex rolled into the room and slipped behind the narrow wall abutting the open gate.

UNDEAD PARISH

The wave of destruction rushed into the room past him, singing his hair a little. To his left, someone began to clap. Oscar stood on the other side of the grate, though he took a few steps back to get a better view of the drake.

"That was impressive. But will the beast not smoke you out?"

In response, it took to the air and flew away to gods-know-where.

"What strange behavior," the knight said.

"It is understandable if you look at it from the point of view of the game desi- the weavers of fate. If it did not flee, the Chosen Undead could be trapped here at this bonfire, damned to do battle with it for all eternity. Assuming the Chosen was not strong or skilled enough to defeat it, anyway."

Lex pulled the lever, and the grate rose, letting Oscar to the other side.

"Ah, that does make sense," he said, approaching the bonfire.

They both attuned to the flame and continued out to the courtyard opposite the grate. Though overgrown, the small shrine must have been beautiful once. Now, the statue of its god was in pieces, and docile hollows milled about.

"This is the altar of the fallen god of war?" Oscar said to no one in particular.

He looked around the base of the statue.

"Just mentioning him was heresy. Even the Captain was careful."

One by one, he hefted the pieces of the statue back toward the base in an ordered fashion. At last, he placed the head upright and in front. He stared at it, thinking.

"This is the homeland of the gods. The victim of a divine _damnatio memoriae_ should not have such an intact shrine. I have seen the results of petty lords attempting such, long ago in my homeland. Priceless works of art destroyed or more carefully altered. A skilled stonemason could restore this easily. Even the face is not damaged; just worn from the years. Prophet, what do you know of this?"

"The mystery of Gwyn's firstborn is beyond me," Lex said, admiring the stonework. "In fact, it is a matter of great debate in the land of Luthor, where heresy just means it's Tuesday. The most overwhelmingly popular idea is that Solaire is the firstborn, possibly suffering from memory loss."

"The Captain?"

"Of the nine divine Covenants in Lordran, each has a distinct leader. Well, the Way of White has two, and neither of them would be particularly important outside of Lordran. For this reason, it is not possible to gain rank in the Way of Worthless. The Warriors of Sunlight, on the other hand, have no leader at all, but it is still possible to strengthen one's connection to it. As Solaire is the only member of the Covenant in Lordran and compares the sun to a father, many make that connection."

"Wait!" Oscar said, lifting his visor to show his confusion. "How is it that others know the Captain is in Lordran? Why is a knight-captain of Astora a popular topic in a foreign nation?"

"Oh… Shit," Lex grumbled. "Um. Most of what I say about myself, _et cetera,_ will be outright lies because explaining exactly what I am and where I'm from would take something like a week. I swear on the name of my totally fictional goddess that I'll explain everything once we go to Oolacile, and you have a point of reference to use."

"I thought the lost kingdom of Oolacile was a myth."

"No, it was real. And we're going to have to go there. And fight a real dragon. Actually, that part's optional, but it's a really fun fight."

"Fun? What part-" Oscar stopped himself. "I will hold you to your promise. You will explain yourself before I will fight any dragons."

"Fair enough," Lex said, shrugging. "Now let's swear ourselves to an absent god who may or may not be an old friend of yours."

They both knelt before the assembled pieces of the Altar of Sunlight. All the clerics and knights who Oscar was fated to help enter Lordran were members of the Way of White as he was. Now that distinction held no meaning, as both he and the Chosen Undead he had freed renounced the teachings of Allfather Lloyd and instead attuned their souls to the god of war, whose name was erased from history. Their hearts were filled with song, and the words of a hymn came unbidden to their lips. Oscar rose first.

"Amazing," he said. "Nothing of this sort happened when I was sworn to the Way of White."

Lex took to his feet and laughed.

"You don't get it. I find your lack of faith disturbing."

He turned to face one of the docile hollows shuffling absently through the courtyard. He raised his talisman and recited the opening lines once more. The sackcloth began to glow and spit sparks. Lex drew his arm back as the talisman took the form of a vajra and tongues of lightning grew from either end. Lex threw his arm, and the lightning spear loosed from the talisman, reducing the hollow to ash. Lex laughed again.

"Mad. With. Power."

Lex walked back past the bonfire and out onto the bridge. He collected the three items and returned, sitting down at the bonfire. He placed his mace in his bag, then looked at his hands. Just as before, they were covered by the simple traveling gloves of a cleric, with a reddish-brown ring on his left ring finger.

"You know, I wonder how this works. Can I remove my gloves without first removing my rings? Because I don't know when I might need to change my gloves after putting on the Ring of Fapping."

He gave an experimental tug at his left glove. It began to slide off as if the ring weren't there.

"Oh hell yes."

With that, he removed both gloves and put them into his bag as well, the Old Witch's Ring magically resizing to be a perfect fit once more.

"How did you do that?" Oscar asked, taking a seat at the bonfire himself.

"How did I do what?" Lex said flatly, slowly drawing the claymore out of the bag.

"Very well. Another question to ask before dragon slaying."

Lex stood and tested the claymore's weight in his hand. He took a couple of test swings with one hand and then with both.

"Are you sure you want to use such a large weapon?" Oscar asked. "You don't have your cleric-sized armor yet. Can you dodge properly?"

"Yeah, that's why I took my gloves off."

Oscar gave him another sour glare and slammed his visor shut to end the nonsensical conversation before it began. He rose, and the pair passed under the open grate to the main Undead Parish. There was a hollow soldier directly ahead, at the top of a shallow series of stairs. Lex dashed forward and took a flailing swing that sent the hollow's shield skittering across the cobblestone. He followed up with an overhead smash that crumpled the hollow like paper.

"You use that sword like a club," Oscar commented dryly.

"Eh. It works. Now, I really wish I had a _macuahuitl_, because that's the best of both worlds, but sadly, I doubt I will ever get to use one. Now, do you want to do this the easy but tedious way or the hard way? We won't get another chance to try the hard way if we mess up or die."

"What's the difference?"

"Right, so as you can see," Lex said, gesturing through the archway in which the hollow had been standing, "this road is full of hollow soldiers and also that terrifying armored boar. If you look up, there's another grate that is currently open. Unlike the one we just crossed, this one actually locks on the correct side. As soon as we start to approach, that hollow way in the back there will drop it, causing us to have to take an alternative path. If I make a dead sprint over to the other side, I might be able to get across before the grate falls.

Now, this carries the risk of getting stabbed and-or shot to death by hollows or the boar on the way across. In the best case, it'll leave you stuck on the other side until I can raise the grate again."

"Hmm," Oscar murmured, the sound echoing in his helmet a little. "We've been lucky so far. Even if you aren't a true prophet, I feel that fortune smiles on you. Let's risk the hard way."

"All right. But let's hedge our bets first."

The cleric hugged the wall of the archway and hurled a lightning spear at the hollow soldier around the corner.

"Say, Oscar, are you trained in javelin-throwing?"

"I am. I am afraid it is not a skill I have practiced much lately."

"Eh, good enough."

Lex drew the winged spear out of his bag. Oscar's helmet followed the tip as it rose higher and higher out of a container smaller than his shield.

"Right, so go ahead and try to hit that boar in the face with this. You don't need to hurt it; I just need it to be close enough to blast with lightning. Though I have no idea why lightning spears fizzle out at long range. It's like whoever was in charge of that didn't see how far they went in the opening."

Oscar sheathed his sword and took the spear from Lex. He felt its weight in his hand and motioned for the cleric to back away as he ran through the motions. Eventually, he felt confident in his stance and sent the weapon hurtling at the fang boar. The spear struck it squarely between the eyes and bounced, hurtling back toward the grate. Unfortunately, the steel plates covering the monstrous boar's upper body were much too thick for the attack to do more than annoy it.

Of course, they were also an obvious weakness. The beast lowered its head and pawed the ground before breaking into a charge toward the archway. Oscar raised his shield defensively and took a few steps back as Lex hurled his first lightning spear. Though it didn't stop the boar, the pain sent the beast off course, its thorned tusks catching on the edge of the archway and sending it tumbling.

"Its hind is unarmored!" Lex shouted as he drew back another bolt.

Oscar cleared out of the way and let the lightning strike. He drew his sword and slashed at one of its back legs. The boar squealed and then burst into soul energy, leaving only its armored head behind.

"Oh! Nice!" Lex said. "Want a new helmet?"

Oscar gave him another one of his implied helmet glares.

"For the collection, then," the cleric said, scooping up the severed head and stuffing it in his bag just as casually as he had the crystal lizard's corpse. "This makes things much easier, then. There's a staircase to the right. There's another spearman at the top. Riposte him and then move on to the two crossbowmen on that platform, who'll be shooting at you by then. The swordsmen in the middle could follow either of us, so be careful."

"Understood."

With that, Lex broke into a dead sprint through the archway and up the several levels between it and the grate. The first swordsman rushed toward him, and the crossbowmen opened fire, but he rolled away quickly, walking for a few steps to recover before sprinting again. As he reached the second swordsman, he rolled past it, watching as the third turned to pull the lever and drop the grate. With a final burst of speed, he ran to the steps of the church, pausing to catch his breath as the gate fell. Now he was alone and facing two hollow swordsmen.

He took a quick stab at the one that had pulled the lever since it was lacking a shield, but that wasn't enough to kill it. He quickly backstepped as the other swung at him. Waiting for the swing to clear, he took a step forward again and counterattacked with a wide swing, killing the one he had already struck and stunning the other. Unfortunately, he lacked the energy to follow up, and so the hollow recovered its stance, using its shield to ward against another attack. Lex circled it, slowly edging around.

"Aaaand backstab!" he shouted.

He hit it normally instead and was glad Oscar wasn't watching. Still, the weight of the claymore staggered it, and he was able to finish it with another blow. Sighing, he took the Burg's basement key from the corpse lying on the stairs and pulled the lever to raise the grate. Oscar waved at him from atop the pathway where the crossbowmen had been and hopped down, grabbing the winged spear and handing it to him.

"You call that difficult?"

"I didn't know how it would work out with two people. Normally, it involves jumping from that platform over to here, but I figured… uh… no, wait. Why did I want us to split up? Something about bottlenecking on the stairs. Anyway, let's go."

Lex led Oscar away from the main entrance to the church and up some stairs to a walkway, turning the corner quickly to land a backstab on the hollow Baldur knight while it looked away. As it fell, something clattered to the ground.

"Aha! Titanite!"

Lex knelt to pick up the coin-sized shard. It was cold and slightly glossy stone and had the bizarre quality of feeling both light and heavy at the same time. He gave it to Oscar to look at.

"So this is titanite. It's a little disappointing, to be honest. It seems so… mundane. I thought there would have been some sort of grandeur to the iron of the gods."

"Well, there's this one type that you can only get by decapitating a giant demon that's literally made out of it."

Oscar shook his head.

"No, I meant-" He sighed. "Let's just move on."

The rest of the walkway had crumbled and was replaced with wood, which in turn was green with mold and likely wouldn't last much longer. They crossed into a stone courtyard with two hollow swordsmen and a crossbowman. Oscar rushed the one in the front while Lex ran past the second to hack the sniper in two. As the second swordsman approached him, Oscar stabbed it in the back, kicking it away.

"Another detour," Lex said. "We'll be here for quite a while, actually."

He waved for Oscar to follow him through an archway and across a long stone bridge into a dense forest.


	6. Knight Fever

At the other end of the bridge was the older church, long abandoned by the Parish. Inside the mildew-covered walls was a small altar and pieces of the crumbling walls. The pair rounded a railing and headed downstairs. The room below held a bonfire, and a loud clinking sound rose from below. They attuned to the bonfire and continued down.

In the corner opposite the last step crouched a mountain of a man. His bristling white hair and beard hung around him like an ashen wreath, and he was thoroughly surrounded by weapons and shields of countless variety. Even now, he hammered away at a new broadsword, unafraid of the heat and wearing no protection beyond leather gloves. Now, he stopped hammering and wiped his brow with the back of his arm.

"Well, you must be new arrivals. I'm Andre, of Astora. If you require smithing, then speak to me."

With that, he quenched the red-hot blade and set it lovingly amongst the others before rising to stretch. Lex and Oscar were about the same height – it was hard to tell since Oscar never removed his helmet – but Andre towered over them, a height more appropriate for a native of Berenike than of Astora.

"Just stopping in to say hello," Lex said. "We need to collect quite a bit more titanite before we employ your services."

"Well that's all right," the smith replied. "At least one of you has respectable armor, and you both have fine blades. Come and see me when you're ready to improve them."

He sat down and began shuffling through a drawer under his workbench before drawing out a large iron ingot and placing it in the furnace. Lex nodded and waved Oscar back up the stairs.

"Say, have you ever met anyone else that big in Astora?" Lex said quietly.

"I haven't, I'm afraid. Do you think the smith has reason to lie about his homeland?"

"Well, honestly, at this point, pretty much everyone has been accused of being the god of war, but there's a decent chance of it being Andre. He's even got a crazy beard like Gwyn."

"Choice in facial hairstyle is not genetic."

"But there _is _a mythic resonance to it. Actually, I wonder what the primary criterion Gwyn has for his succession is. I'm betting it's great taste in headgear, because the Old Iron King has the coolest crown ever… and basically no connection to Gwyn whatsoever. Well, except relative arrogance."

"The Great Lord, arrogant? Heresy aside, you're going too far now."

"He was responsible for the damnation of his Black Knights and is indirectly responsible for the resurgence of the curse of the Undead. He assumed that his sacrifice would be enough and did not make suitable plans for a replacement. The prophecy we follow is a terribly hands-off approach, and I even doubt he had a hand in it."

"Wait," Oscar said, stopping abruptly. "His sacrifice? I thought you were joking earlier! How can a god go hollow?"

"Yes, it is rather peculiar. I suspect it is a condition unique to the now Lord of Cinder, because he Linked the Flame. The curse is a human thing, but dogs who are our companions and rats who are our parasites can also hollow. I suspect when he Linked his soul, it was overwhelmed with the humanity pouring in from bonfires the world over."

"Doesn't humanity make one more resistant to hollowing?"

"For humans, sure. It strengthens our wills, as is appropriate for a Lord Soul."

"Humanity isn't… oh."

Lex coughed.

"Yeah. The shattered Dark Soul. The Dark Lord will one day rise from our kind, and so its power would certainly be poisonous to a god, the Lord of Sunlight especially."

"What can we do, then?" Oscar said quietly.

"I haven't the foggiest, but we've been slapping fate around by accident anyway, so I'm not really worried. Come on now, let's get down to business." He paused. "… to fight through… the church. I really hate grinding… but now I've got… the urge!"

"You're tone deaf," Oscar said, a little more spirited now. "What have we got to do?"

"Well first, we need to lure out the Berenike knight over by the altar so we can fight him in the courtyard without getting lasered to death. Uh. By laser, I mean sorcery. Once we've beaten him, we need to be careful making our way upstairs. There's a Baldur knight on the stairs themselves, and the next room is full of wild hollows who will no doubt be powered up before we get there."

"Powered up? By sorcery of some sort?"

"Yeah, one of Seath's Channelers is up there. Not sure why since there really aren't any Undead here worth capturing." He paused. "Well, maybe Lautrec. But the thing is just standing there and killing anyone who enters the church, so I don't know."

"My ancestral shield is proof against sorcery. Let me lead when the time comes."

"Oh, I was going to let you. The passages are narrow, so even melee combat is a pain."

Oscar chuckled faintly.

"By all means then. Let me lead."

The conversation concluded, they continued past the bonfire and across the bridge once more. As they approached the side entrance to the newer church, Lex rushed in quickly and then raced back out. The sound of steel breaking crashing on stone followed him, and a hollowed knight of Berenike stomped down the stairs. Even its shield was taller than the duo, and its plumed helmet rose above even that. In its hand was clutched a heavy mace which put Lex's old weapon to shame.

"Ready, Oscar?" Lex shouted as he spun about and held his sword at the ready.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Oscar had casually walked up to the massive knight. Before Lex could react, it swung its mace, only to have it swatted away as if it was nothing. While the knight was already off-balance, Oscar kicked it over.

"There, you can have it."

Lex grumbled as he jabbed his claymore down through its open-faced helmet. It exploded into souls, leaving behind a finger-sized shard of titanite.

"Well, you can obviously handle yourself," the cleric said. "Honestly, I don't relish clearing the rest of the church, so I'll go ahead and leave that to you. Just don't climb out to the rooftop, and don't talk to the suspicious prisoner. I need to go get something I forgot because I'm so used to taking the long way around."

"What's that?"

"The key to free the suspicious prisoner. Spoilers: he's a murderer. He may know something about the Prophecy, though, so we need to get on his good side."

Lex gave a quick wave and headed back toward the wooden scaffolding, leaving Oscar to his own devices once more. He watched the cleric until he had turned a corner and then walked up the stairs to the church in order to complete his own objectives. Ducking behind a column, he grabbed the binoculars at his belt and peered up at the open room on the second floor. Sure enough, the six-eyed "snatcher" of the mad Duke was watching over the church interior.

Putting the tool back in place, he took up his sword and shield and sprinted across the room to the stairs, a heavy soul arrow screaming as it struck where he had been standing moments before. As he rounded the corner of the staircase, a Baldur knight rushed down at him, lunging forward with a rapier. He parried the attack and ran his sword through the hollow's exposed gut. At the top of the stairs, the hallway turned left immediately and then back again after a few paces. Oscar crouched by the windows overlooking the main floor and glanced over at the Channeler.

Sure enough, it was doing its wardance in order to strengthen the feral hollows around it. The elite knight snuck forward. Still in plain sight for those looking down the hallway, a few hollows rushed over to him. Dispatching them was simple enough, but now the sorcerer knew where he was and led the remainder after him. As he rose and backed away, it lashed out at him with its trident.

He blocked the first hit and then the second, but when the third came, he clamped his arm around the pole at the base of the prongs. Oscar grunted, trying to wrench the weapon from the sorcerer's grasp while fending off feral hollows with his sword at the same time. With a final exertion, he yanked the Channeler toward him, causing it to fall into his sword. Just in time, he leapt backward before what was left of the mob of hollows hacked him to bits with their rusty broken swords. The sorcerer burst into soul energy, causing his sword to fall to the ground, but the hollows ran over it unflinchingly, causing it to skitter away.

With no other choice, the elite knight took a step back and adjusted his stance, holding the magical implement like a common spear. He took an experimental jab at the nearest hollow. Unfortunately, the weapon didn't move like he wanted it, and the strange weighting confused him and left him vulnerable while he tried to recover his stance. Still, it was a powerful magic weapon, and even that test attack had felled a hollow. It was simple: if he couldn't fight well, he should fight wisely.

Not turning away from the swarming hollows, he backed around the corner to the top of the staircase as swiftly as he could. As the hollows filtered around the corner, he struck one or two of them at a time until none remained. Sighing with relief, he retreated down the stairs and went after his fallen sword. It had landed amidst the wooden pews, but as he knelt to pick it up, he was forced to dive through them to avoid a blade, splinters scattering across the floor. A Baldur knight stood above him, ready to take another swing, so he kept rolling, sending pieces of bench across the room.

He rose to his feet in the atrium and took a step back, only to bump into another Baldur knight standing guard. That and a third one next to it both spun to face the intruder. Again, Oscar dodged down and away, finding himself back at the front entrance. At least now he knew that he wouldn't run into any more enemies by mistake, but three knights of Baldur at once would be a challenge, hollows or no. Unfortunately, his sword was now lost somewhere among the shattered benches.

Though the trident had served him well enough against the feral hollows, it would be disastrous to use against more agile opponents. By now, he had a good mental map of the area, but whether he could successfully outrun them was another story. He'd grown careless. Certainly, having a prophet around was helpful, but now he was hard-pressed to defend himself in an unexpected encounter. Back to basics, then.

He looked around for something to use as a weapon – and happened to find a perfectly fine halberd instead of the improvised implement he was expecting. He dashed back to the corpse that had been carrying it and scooped it up, letting the trident clatter to the ground. As the Baldur knights paced around him anxiously, he decided to take it for a more aggressive test than he had the other polearm. Grabbing hold with both hands, he took a wide swing and brought the axe blade against all their shields at once. They staggered, and he pressed his advantage by pressing the spearhead through the torso of the nearest one.

Now he stepped back to catch his breath. One of them charged after him, but he backstepped to avoid the swing and followed up with a hammering overhead that brought it to the ground and killed it. He approached the last aggressively, and it lashed out at him. He batted away its attack with the back of his hand and kicked it away. Twisting his whole body, he locked his other arm and used the halberd as a bat to send the hollow hurtling into the wall of the church.

Oscar grumbled.

"I shouldn't do that. It's too rough on my shoulder."

He went back into the church and grabbed his sword out of the debris, leaving the halberd leaning against a pillar in case he needed it again. Readying himself for further conflict, he went upstairs, entering the room that overlooked the altar and the ruins of the pews. First, he checked the inner room across from the entrance. Seeing a series of ladders that presumably went to the roof, he moved on. In the next room, he collected the soul clump.

He stood at the balcony briefly, overlooking the rest of the Parish. He wondered where the cleric could have gone and what sort of hoops he had to jump through. The knight quietly gave thanks to whatever gods were listening that the prophet had known how to get past the drake earlier. He shuddered to think that Lex might be doing something that again. Eventually, he turned about and continued into the hallway on the other side.

A Baldur knight rushed at him, but by now, deflecting their attacks and retaliating was effortless. As long as there was only one enemy, he was confident in his skills. The hall included some shallow stairs and led to a walkway ringing the ceiling three storeys now above the altar. Trying to be thorough, Oscar started by walking all the way around to the other side. Lex had mentioned something about someone getting trapped in a barrel.

Certainly, this corpse was too old to be the one the cleric was searching for, but there was indeed a deceased old hollow tied up and stuffed into a barrel here. Something near its Darksign was glimmering, and after cutting the corpse free, Oscar retrieved the humanity sprite that was clinging to it. The tiny black vapor gazed up at him with eyes of wonder.

"The Dark Soul, he said. How funny."

The knight placed the sprite safely in a belt pouch where it couldn't wander off. Now he turned back to check the boarded doors he had passed. He rapped on one experimentally. The boards were thin. He raised his shield up high and rammed the barricade. The rotten wood gave way easily, and Oscar was faced with more stairs.

"Wait!"

He turned, lifting the binoculars to his visor. At the end of the hallway was Lex, sprinting desperately toward him. Oscar leaned against the stone stairs and waited for the cleric to catch up.

"I… have… the… key…" he panted.

"Where did you go? I didn't see you anywhere from the balcony. The Parish can't be that large."

"Underground," Lex said.

He motioned upward, still unable to talk quite as much as usual.

"Let's go."

The pair went up the stairs and found a single cell. Inside was a knight in coppery armor. The helm had a shovel-shaped visor, and both it and the pauldrons were crowned with five fingers of the same metal. The breastplate was strange, with another set of arms descending from the corners and crossing over the center. This new knight sat anxiously and spoke with a sensuously raspy voice when they approached.

"Oh, still human are you? Then I am in luck. Could you help me? As you can see I am stuck, without recourse.

Please, I have duties to fulfill, and I will reward you handsomely. Well? I am certain you stand to benefit."

"Hello, Lautrec of Carim. I am the prophet, Lex of Luthor. This is my companion, Knight Oscar of Astora. And this," he said, holding up a key, "is the key to your freedom."

With that, he placed the key in the lock and released the knight. Lautrec's voice perked up considerably now.

"Thank you, yes, sincerely. I am free. Now I can get back to work…"

He began to chuckle ominously. Lex joined in shortly. Oscar looked back and forth, wondering what the prophet knew.

"Come on, Oscar, let's give Knight Lautrec time to stretch his legs. We need to wrap things up here."

Lex led Oscar back down to the first floor and approached the altar. Though Oscar had noticed it when he had entered, now he looked more carefully at the body curled up upon it. Unfortunately, the woman had died long ago, possibly when the Parish first fell victim to the curse. Resting upon its heart was a strange soul, the color of ash rather than bluish white, and radiating tendrils outward.

"A Fire Keeper's soul. One of the most valuable commodities in all of Lordran. I had to make sure we'd get it before our friend upstairs."

"What?" Oscar shouted, outraged. "This is a soul; not a thing!"

"I'm not going to argue philosophy with you, Oscar. This is vital to our fulfillment of the Prophecy, since I don't expect either of us are quite so skilled at combat as to kill the Lords without injury."

"Blasphemy after blasphemy, Prophet. Explain yourself."

"Gwyn returned his Soul to the Flame, but he carved off parts of it and bestowed them as gifts. Further, the Witch and the Gravelord still have their entire Souls. The mission of the Chosen Undead is to return them to where they belong."

Oscar took a deep breath.

"I understand. What of the Dark Soul?"

"No one has ever tried killing all of humankind in order to collect its countless pieces." He scratched his chin. "That might be why the mission is doomed to failure and why the other Lord Souls always find new hosts."

"Let's focus on the present. If you say that we need to use this soul for something, then I will believe you. But let's at least give her body a proper burial."

"All right," Lex said, nodding. "Can you carry her or do you need my help?"

Oscar sheathed his sword and slung his shield over his back. He slipped his fingers under the shriveled corpse and tested the weight. Ever so gently, he lifted it up.

"Just in case," the cleric murmured. "Her body may have been left there as a religious icon."

"These people are dead," Oscar said coldly. "They will not care if we give her a more permanent resting place."

Lex nodded and sheathed his own sword. He waved Oscar over to the elevator under the stairs, and they descended to Firelink Shrine.


	7. Prepare to die

The ride down to Firelink was awkward. Oscar was obviously growing increasingly annoyed by Lex's mercenary attitude. He understood that, but reigning in his tongue was difficult when his first instinct in an awkward situation was just to talk even more. It was a game to him, but for Oscar and anyone else he would meet, it was life. He was intimately familiar with the land's past, present, and future and knew how everything would end. For everyone else, there was only fear of whether they would make it another day.

So the otherworldly visitor kept his mouth shut – at least for the time being. If he didn't learn now, he'd regret it later. When the elevator touched down with a loud clank, he led Oscar down the stairs and toward the high-ceilinged chapel. There was an elite cleric there with the typical stern looks of Thorolund, though amplified tenfold.

"Cleric Petrus," Lex said, getting his attention.

"Hello there. I believe we are not acquainted?" he replied, confused.

Certainly, Lex also quite resembled a Thorolunder in looks and wore a cleric's robes, but he lacked the unique knowledge the younger priest possessed.

"I am Lex of Luthor, prophet of the goddess Slaanesh. This is my companion, Knight Oscar of Astora. We found the body of the church's Fire Keeper long-abandoned. With no one around to venerate her as she is due, we thought to bury her with her kin in the graveyard. Will you help us? My own faith has no funerary rites."

Petrus wrinkled his nose a little but then nodded his head.

"Very well. I suppose to do otherwise would do her a disservice. Let us make haste before my companions arrive."

He slung his shield over his back and walked with them down to the graveyard. As the skeletons began to rise in protest, he paid them little mind. A quick bash with his morningstar was all that was required to send them back to rest.

"I don't suppose you know what the Keeper's name was?" the older cleric asked.

Lex and Oscar looked at each other blankly.

"Of course not. That was too much to ask."

Petrus had a wonderful knack at sounding completely harmless despite what he was actually saying.

"Then where would you like to bury her? I don't believe ownership over any of these plots means much now. Would you rather I picked one? I would hate for my companions to find me missing because this errand."

Oscar looked down at the dried-up corpse and tried to think.

Lex pointed.

"What about that cliff? If I remember right, there's no risk of it crumbling out from under us while we're digging, and it overlooks the Shrine. Maybe she hated being a Fire Keeper in the end – I don't know. But it's better than just picking something thoughtlessly."

The knight nodded silently, and the trio walked over to the cliff. Two more skeletons began to rise, but Petrus just shoved them over the edge disdainfully.

"There now. The site has been exorcised."

He hung his morningstar on his belt and knelt down to test the soil. Oscar put the corpse down, leaning it against another tombstone for the time being. At long last, he removed his helmet, revealing that his hair was blond and cropped close. Anything else would be difficult to deal with in a helmet like that. Lex figured that his own hair could definitely fit inside a helmet but that it would be terribly hot.

"Lex," Oscar said curtly. "Is there anywhere else we need to go soon?"

The prophet shrugged.

"Not really. Spending an hour or two wrapping things up in the Parish and then ringing the bell."

"Good."

Now Oscar unhooked from his belt what seemed at first to be a small blanket rolled into a tube. He placed it on the ground so that it was out of the way and set his helmet on it. Next came the gloves, and he had soon stripped to only the waistcloth that the men of Lordran were so fond of wearing. Petrus did not join him, despite the unwieldy bulk of his own armor. Lex, of course, didn't have to worry about such things in his robes.

"Do you have a shovel in that magic bag, Lex?"

"Believe me when I say that I don't think there are any shovels in all of Lordran. But I do have a number of shitty shields we can ruin."

With that, he dug into his bag and removed three hollow soldier shields. They were thin, metal, and had a spaded tip. While not perfect, they were still better than bare hands. Oscar set to work. Whether he had done a lot of digging in his time remained to be seen, but he used his body with the trained efficiency of an elite warrior.

Lex, on the other hand showed nothing but the general lack of coordination that came with a lifetime of sitting in front of a screen. Petrus, looking faintly disgusted as always, did nothing, and so the third shield remained on the grass. They were at it for few hours – it was impossible to tell with Lordran frozen in time as it was. It took longer than it ought have, though, because Lex kept getting in Oscar's way. By the end of it, they'd worked out a rhythm, and Oscar had to physically stop Lex, who had forgotten why they were digging and wanted to keep at it, saying something about "mine-craft." Now that he had finished, something else came to mind.

"Wait a minute! With all the fixation on Fire, why are all these graves here? I could understand if they were just markers, but we just dug a six-foot hole in the ground! Is cremation reserved for the gods or something?"

"You are ill-educated, for a prophet," Petrus said, frowning. "Before the Undead curse, corpses were buried so that their humanity could dissipate safely. Now, there are so many dead and so many hungering for humanity that it is not possible. That is to say nothing of the Gravelord's dues."

He wrinkled his nose again.

"I will tell you more later, if that is your desire. Shall we begin the service?"

The pair climbed out of the hole. Lex unwittingly wiped his brow with his talisman before realizing what it was. He was going to wash up before he met anyone else. The question was whether he could find some water in the Burg somewhere or if something that simple would require killing the hydra in Darkroot Basin. He vaguely wondered if he could shower in Estus.

Oscar did actually have a rag for the purpose of wiping his sweat. He did so before putting on his blue tabard. It looked a little silly without the armor underneath, but he wasn't about to make the grumbling old cleric wait any longer. He picked up the body once more and set it before the open grave as Petrus began.

"Dearest friends, we are gathered here today to mark the passing of the blessed Fire Keeper of the Undead Parish. As we pray for her soul to be returned to Flame, in communion with the Great Lord, we return her body to earth. May her humanity rest in piece, and may her bones serve the Gravelord faithfully until they too are ash."

He reached into a belt pouch and removed a stick of incense, lighting it with his hand like a bonfire, before sticking it into the earth at the head of the grave.

"With this offering of Flame to the Witch, may her soul be safe from madness and Chaos as it ventures to the Fire. May she be watched over by Allfather Lloyd, Gwynevere, Flan, and all the gods. With the blessings of the dearly departed Bishop Havel and the saints before and since, we commit her body to the soil."

Oscar gently let the corpse into the hole. Petrus signed, and Oscar and Lex began to use the shields to fill it once more.

"In the names of Gwyn, Quel, and Nito, Amen."

"Amen," Oscar and Lex said in unison.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Petrus said, stepping carefully so as not to get dirt on his armor, "I will return to await my companions."

The older cleric walked off alone, leaving Lex and Oscar to their shoveling. Eventually, they finished, and Oscar jabbed the shield Petrus hadn't used into the ground to serve as a headstone. The knight donned his armor once more and packed the groundcloth. He nodded to Lex silently, and they walked back to the bonfire. Though he didn't say anything, Lex was pleased that apparently the bonfire turned back time for body odor was well.

"Hey Oscar," he said after a time. "How about you take the next little bit off? I have something else I can do on my own before we go back to finish the Parish."

"I… Thank you. I need some time to sort out my thoughts."

Lex handed him the buried Fire Keeper's soul.

"The Keeper below is called the Ash Maiden, but her name is Anastacia of Astora. She knows what to do with this. If you do not wish to do it yourself, I'll do it when I get back."

He patted the knight on the shoulder as he rose and walked off toward the chapel again. He ran up and onto the elevator, stepping on the panel that served as its sole button. As it rose past the broken ceiling that should have covered the entryway, he stepped off and continued onto the hill beside it. He walked around until he stood before one of the chapel's buttresses and swore under his breath as he looked down. He took a few steps back and started running.

He leapt at the last moment and landed on the stone support hard, groaning at the pain in his legs. Still, it could have been worse. He could have missed. Carefully, he ascended the diagonal support and entered through an open, man-sized window. He continued on the narrow ledge and again jumped down onto the roof of the chapel's side building.

In the center of the roof lay one of Lordran's many mysterious corpses. The cleric walked toward it and reached down, grabbing a key ring from its belt. There was only one key on it, but it was the one he needed, the key to the west side of the Undead Asylum. Complaining under his breath about how roundabout everything was, he jumped from the roof back to the elevator platform. Though the elevator he had used the first two times was now at the top, another had replaced it.

He got in and started it up, the first elevator descending to switch with it. Like before, he stepped off and onto what was left of the roof before climbing onto the grassy ledge. Again he made a running jump, and again he complained about the pain in his shins. This time, instead of walking along what little was left of this upper floor, he went even higher, climbing the stairs that took up the bulk of the ledge. Now, he turned around and walked along the outside of the chapel until he reached a broad ledge where the giant crows had made their nest.

They rested on a ledge below, acting quite like ordinary birds despite their apparent strangeness. Lex shrugged and sat down in the mass of twigs and grass next to some eggs larger than his head. He curled up in a fetal position and waited. It was awkward holding his knees and hunching over like that. The nest was itchy too, but he held his complaints, not wanting to scare off the crows which might have been more used to silent protagonists.

Eventually, one fluttered up to the nest and grabbed him. It turned skyward and clapped its wings as it headed back the way it had entered the valley.

NORTHERN UNDEAD ASYLUM

Time twisted and distorted, and in moments, the crow had closed the great distance between the Shrine and the Asylum on its distant mountain. The crow dropped its burden in midair and banked upward, hurtling above the clouds. Lex rolled to his feet at the edge of the cliff and stared down the pathway. A great deal of feral hollows had found their way out.

Oscar had good intentions in opening all the cells, but now it was proving a hazard. They milled about aimlessly, carrying torches despite the eternal sunlight filtering in from Lordran.

"Are they looking for an honest man? I wonder," Lex said, grinning at the joke even someone from his own world would have trouble understanding.

He raised his talisman and healed himself from his repeated jumps, just in case. The glimmer of magic caught the hollows' attention, and they began hobbling up the hill toward him. Instead of try to swing his claymore in the narrow space between the tombs resting atop the hill, he simply raised his talisman once more. The hollows hardly had time to react as bolt after bolt raced down the hill, shredding their bodies to ash. Lex tried to stick his hands in his pockets casually, but found he had none and settled for hooking his thumbs in his rope belt as he walked down the hill.

The door that the Asylum Demon had been guarding was still open, so he walked in casually. Instead of continuing across to the front door, he stepped to the side and crossed the room inside the columns. He swiftly drew his sword and hacked through a number of clay pots and the hollow standing behind them. Another began to cross from the other side of the room, and he stomped forward, stabbing through its ribs at a safe distance. Now more or less safe, he continued through to the bonfire, attuning to it but not yet reverting time.

His spot saved, he turned and went through the barred door that led to the second floor. Up the stairs, and he spun around to climb the next set. There was the groan of stone, and the cleric rolled back down to the first staircase as the boulder trap rolled past him once more. He looked back into the collapsed room, half-expecting to fight Oscar's hollow despite his survival. When the elite knight failed to appear, Lex continued upward and slashed the offending hollow.

He jogged ahead, and this time, he didn't wait on the hollows to come after him. Not breaking his pace, he charged into the first two, bowling them over with his wide blade. The archer fired an arrow, but Lex rolled immediately, diving under the projectile and stabbing the hollow as he rose. Passing the balcony where he and Oscar had jumped onto the Asylum Demon, he entered the next room, where two hollow soldiers were waiting. He didn't stop here either, charging down one, evading a spear thrust, and hacking the second in two.

He produced the key he had taken from the rooftop corpse and opened the door to the west side third floor walkway. At the end was a crumbled staircase. At its top was another rotted corpse. The cleric crouched down and removed a rusted iron band from its finger, putting it on his open ring finger. He looked down at the broken staircase.

"You know, a character couldn't do it, but I probably could have just shimmied up here. Shit."

He sighed but moved on. He ran back around to the other side and down the stairs to the courtyard. Instead of the bonfire, he continued to the room with the dark well he had climbed out of. He slid down the ladder, the sides slick with slime and continued through the room with the pool and into the long hallway to his cell. As he neared the halfway point, a tall figure in the distance noticed him and bristled.

Armor burned black. A helm with crooked horns like the wings of a bat. A glimmer of red shone through the visor, and the whole suit sizzled, wisps of smoke occasionally rising from it. In its left hand was a black shield and in the right was a black sword.

"Come at me, bro!"

Lex raised his talisman as the Black Knight charged. The Knight didn't waver; only raised its shield. As the lightning splashed across the charred metal, the cleric took a few steps back down the hallway and drew another spear. Now, the Knight was almost to him and began to swing its deadly sword. In a blur, Lex threw the bolt forward and himself backward, the tip of the blade mere inches from his torso.

Since he had not rolled properly, the game mechanics did nothing to help his coordination, and he stumbled backward for a few steps before tripping on one of the short stairs. The Knight, lightning running over its body, swung downward at him unfazed. He rolled to the side, getting sprayed in the face by shards of stone. Fear drove him to his feet and down the hallway.

The Knight was quicker than it had any right to be, but he was able to outpace it, using the time gained to hurl another bolt. It blocked again.

"Why are you here anyway?" Lex screamed as he ran into his cell.

Against the wall sat a corpse that hadn't been there before. Lex had been accepting of it enough while playing, but now that he was living through the Fate of the Undead, he was a little off-put by dead bodies being the primary method of item storage. He cast these thoughts away and slid across the cobblestone toward it. Held limply in its arms was a wooden doll – like the kind artists use – except it had a face, hair, and clothing. He had no time to examine it, though, so he quickly stuffed it into his bag and ducked as the black sword ran cleanly through the corpse's skull and into stone.

"Ha! Stuck in the wall, you-! Oh."

As the cleric stumbled to his feet, the Knight swept its sword around to strike. He only escaped thanks to the brief moment the Knight had to turn its body; had he rolled to its right side, he would have been cut in two. Now, the chase began again as Lex took off down the hallway. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough stamina to make it all the way across, so he spun to face the Knight, another bolt crackling in his hand. Again, he waited for it to nearly close the distance before hurling it, the spear streaking over its shield and striking it squarely in the chest.

As he weaved backward, avoiding the Knight's deadly blade, he found himself at the edge of the pool. The room with the ladder was to his left, but he doubted he could get up and out of the way before the pursuing Knight tore him a new asshole. Instead, he hopped backward, pinning himself against the wall at the far end of the pool. He hoped silently that this was the laundry room or shower or anything that wasn't part of the septic system. The talisman sparked in his hand, and he grinned.

"This hand of mine glows with an awesome power! Its burning grip tells me to defeat you!"

The Black Knight did not react to the warcry, continuing its tireless pursuit.

"Take this! My love! My anger! And all of my sorrow!"

The Knight ignored the drop into the pool and lanced its sword forward.

"Lightning Finger!"

The giant sword ran up through Lex's torso and into the wall. Screaming from pain rather than camp now, he shoved the talisman against the Knight's helm as the bolt fired. At last it reacted, roaring with indignation as it began to slowly flake away. As if a wind blew through the passage, it exploded into ash and vanished. Lex started choking in agony, hung against the wall by the sword through his gut.

He waved his talisman wildly, the movement aggravating the tearing of his sides around the blade, but the force of his panic caused the spell to fire anyway, reconnecting his innards in such a way that they avoided the slab of steel that was occupying their normal positions. While it only took a minute or so, it felt like an eternity as Lex pulled the blade out inch by inch, gasping with each movement. He tossed it onto the floor and collapsed himself, curling up into a ball around his talisman. He cast Heal again and again and kept chanting its activation hymn even after he had restored himself and had run out of casts.

At long last, he shuddered and rose again, picking up the offending sword and stuffing it into his bag.

"Worst way to get a rare drop," he said, straining to joke.

Hands shaking, he forced himself to climb the ladder. When he rose from the depths, he fell again to the ground, hugging the earth. In the center of the courtyard was the bonfire. He wanted desperately to sit there for hours, basking in its sensation of warmth and home. That would only make things harder for him, though, so he resisted.

Instead, he forced himself onward: again around the edges of the Asylum Demon's room and up the hill to the cliffside. On cue, the giant crow appeared to grab him. In that instant, its black talons looked an awful lot like black swords. He screamed, but the crow didn't care. It snatched him into the air, and wheeled about toward Lordran.


	8. If you can't stand the heat

FIRELINK SHRINE

Oscar wondered what Lex could have been doing as he watched the crow take his companion southward. This far north, most places were abandoned. Long ago, the roads had been full of traffic to New Londo, but as the curse began to overwhelm Lordran, the flow ebbed. Now, even the gods had abandoned their ancient home, and the only ones who traveled north were Undead bound for the Asylum. The knight couldn't imagine why Lex would return there but couldn't think of anywhere else he might be going either.

He sighed and decided to ignore it like he did the prophet's other quirks. He was certainly in no mood to wonder what went on in that lunatic's head. Oscar stopped himself. No, perhaps he was the one in the wrong. Madness was the norm for the Undead.

Even for those who held onto hope and sanity, survival came first. Even he didn't think much of it when he consumed the last bits of soul force animating the hollows. Who was to say whether those weren't the last remnants of those victims' identities? Likewise, who was to say that even a discrete soul like this was the Fire Keeper's identity itself rather than remnants of the power that moved her? He cradled his head in his hands and groaned.

Oscar remained like this for quite some time. Eventually, the crestfallen warrior seated on the fallen wall opposite him spoke up.

"What's wrong? Crisis of faith? Don't think about it too hard. Everything gets easier when you admit that it's all in vain."

He began laughing miserably.

"Maybe you're right," Oscar said. "That man I've been traveling with is a prophet. He says that even if we succeed, all of this will happen again in a thousand years."

"There you go," the warrior said, mournfully gazing into the bonfire. "It's not our fault. The world just isn't fair. Not for anyone."

"He also said that it was my fate to die in the Undead Asylum. Don't you think that means something? I'm terrified, honestly. But… if I give up here, then what was the purpose in coming? I was alive when I shouldn't have been. I could have made the long journey back to Astora.

Maybe I could have pretended to be missing instead of dead. Maybe I could have just pretended all of this was a dream. But I have the chance to change something now. Maybe it is all in vain. But don't you think that… even if the Fire will fade again, it's worth the journey for even one more day of light?"

"Don't ask me. I couldn't handle that sort of passion."

They were both quiet for a while, before Oscar rose and walked down the stairs to the lower portion of the Shrine. The knight in golden armor was there – Lautrec, his name was, the murderer.

"Ahh, quite a speech. I'm impressed. I had thought all such fools died before they made it here."

He chuckled quietly with a sound like grinding stone.

"Oh, don't mind me," he continued. "I'm just a little… jaded. I _am_ grateful to you for freeing me. Here is your reward. Please accept it."

He drew something out of a belt pouch and held it up. Oscar approached him cautiously and took it. It was a golden medallion with the sun symbol of the god of war in relief. Strangely, it felt warm to the touch, though Lautrec had held it for only a moment. Oscar eyed it a little suspiciously but tucked it away with his other gear.

"I'm glad you like it," Lautrec said, chuckling a little. "Now then. With my debt repaid, I have business to attend. With luck, maybe we'll meet again."

With that, he rose and walked around one a ruined wall, descending until he was out of sight. After a few moments, the sound of rattling chains echoed up from beneath the Shrine. Oscar shuddered and sat down in front of the Fire Keeper's prison, removing his helmet so she could clearly see his face.

"Hello…" he began awkwardly. "I am told that you are also from Astora. I… I know you can't speak but perhaps you know how to write? I'm sure I could find something for you to write on. I thought it might help… to talk to someone from the same kingdom."

The Keeper didn't react at all within her hood and voluminous robes.

"I… can't say that I understand what you're going through. The son of a count has harsh training and duties but would never experience real hardship. But it is his duty as such to relieve the suffering of the common folk. Perhaps you do not know how to write? I could teach you… when I'm here, at least."

Her head dipped a little.

"What… what is it?"

She was slowly slumping over now. She fell face-forward into the dirt and pulled herself forward, her skirt dragging limply behind her. When she could reach the bars, she pulled herself up again. Her face was wet with tears.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

Oscar gasped quietly and swallowed the lump in his throat. A new Flame might die in a thousand years, but that was no reason to ignore the suffering of the present. He slid closer and snaked an arm through the bars, patting her gently while she wept in silence. They remained like that for a long while, even after she had stopped crying. It was only when the crow passed overhead again that Oscar excused himself to return to the upper Shrine.

He found his usually melodramatic partner in nearly as bad a shape as the Fire Keeper. The cleric was shivering, holding his hands out to the bonfire desperately. Oscar approached him slowly. There was a mad look in his eyes, the look of someone on the brink. Undead didn't always go hollow; sometimes they were just driven irreparably made by their condition.

"Lex," he said carefully. "Is everything all right?"

"I…"

The cleric swallowed.

"I messed up, Oscar. I almost died."

The knight felt the bile rise in his throat. He restrained himself from shouting for Anastacia's sake.

"Up. Get up."

He dragged Lex to his feet and pulled him all the way to the cemetery's entrance.

"You see all these graves? How many of these people were Undead like us, who went hollow? _You_ were the one who kept me from becoming like these poor souls. Where is all that gusto now? Where's the bragging about immortality?

We can't sleep anymore. There are people whose every waking moment is pain. You talk about using souls for greater goods and say the gods are arrogant? What's more arrogant than complaining about one measly near-death experience? Tell that to these people. Tell that to Anastacia."

Lex held his own arms as he shivered.

"You don't understand, Oscar-"

"What's there to understand?" he shouted.

"I've never died before. I've never really been hurt before. None of this is supposed to be real!"

"What do you-?"

"It's all a game, Oscar! It's a game."

He sniffled and tried to get a hold of himself. Oscar glared at him silently until he continued.

"In Lordran, different worlds overlap and pass through one another, right? In my world, there is no Lordran. It's a fiction. A setting. The purpose is to play the role of the Chosen Undead in a grand tragedy. Like a novel, but the reader has a small amount of control over the order of events."

Oscar's first instinct was to disregard what Lex had said. A prophet was something that was believable – the notion that his entire world was fictional was simply too much. But a prophet who knows the future so clearly and immediately as to make battle plans was too convenient. Lex hadn't said that his parrying the demon's weapon on the bridge was amazing; he had said that it was outright impossible. Whether something was possible or not was beyond the domain of fate and prophecy.

If it was a game, though, there would be rules. Someone who was familiar with the game would know them well. Presumably, for a game with the scope of a novel, they would have to be rigid and clear-cut. It wasn't that only one of inhuman strength or skill could deflect that attack: it was that doing so was truly impossible. As much as he wanted to reject it out of hand, it wasn't completely impossible.

"How do you explain my memories? Undead are prone to forgetfulness, that is true. But I still clearly remember much of my home and childhood. This couldn't be part of a game. Not when I'm so insignificant that I die in the opening act."

"I don't know. And that's what scares me. In the game, death is irrelevant to the Chosen Undead. But this isn't the game anymore. What happens when I die… Oscar?"

Oscar's anger simmered down a little. He supposed that even if Lex was completely mad, he wasn't the sort of person who had put his life on the line before. A knight of Astora must stand valiantly even in the face of certain defeat. An out-of-place actor or reader or whatever Lex truly was? Being a little frightened by the prospect of death was understandable – if annoying because of how he had acted previously.

"If you die, you'll come back to the bonfire. Just like everyone else. We may be changing our fates, but the rest of the world still works. You have nothing to worry about. I promise."

He pat Lex on the shoulder. The fake prophet sniffled again and nodded.

"Now," Oscar continued, "like you said. Let's save the, uh, goddamned world. None of this depressing… shit. If this was the game, what would come next?"

"Grinding," Lex said plainly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "We need to slaughter Baldur knights over and over again and collect titanite. I need to upgrade my sword, and you need to upgrade your armor. Your sword can't be upgraded without a kind of rare titanite, and honestly, it's not worth upgrading anyway when that titanite could be used elsewhere. I won't upgrade my robes because I intend to get real armor soon."

"And after that?"

"I need to use that soapstone Solaire gave you. I need to help other Undead defeat the Bell Gargoyles until I've earned ten sunlight medals."

"Just you?"

"Yes, unless you intend to fight with miracles like Solaire."

Oscar shook his head.

"I might consider it. For now, I'll focus on swordplay. A sunlight medal…? Is this one?"

He held up the one Lautrec had given him.

"Yeah, that's it. You talked to Lautrec?" Lex asked, taking the medallion.

"As long as he was here. Which was brief but not brief enough. What role did he play that was worth freeing him?"

"He would have escaped regardless. I suspect his countryman, the Pardoner, frees him if the Chosen Undead doesn't, but there's not really any evidence. I just don't like the Pardoner. I just thought it would be a good idea to have him on our side – or as close as you can get with a guy like that.

As for his role, it's hard to say. He's almost universally reviled for what he will do soon, but he may be the true hero of the story, coldblooded psychopath or not."

"What will he do?"

"We've already started to change the story. I don't want to risk you altering his course. Not yet. I think we'll be fine as long as we don't interrupt his fated progression, but the instant we do, we'll be headed blind into a future where one of the most dangerous killers in Lordran hates us. I know what events in the game trigger his crime. I promise you that I will tell you in time to prevent it."

"I don't like this, Lex. You need to tell me everything. You're so afraid of this game. Why won't you just tell me what I need to know to win?"

"Oscar, this alone, I must keep to myself. I will tell you at the gates to Blighttown."

The knight took a deep breath.

"All right. I'll believe you."


	9. Oscar, 'Meyer have a way with BOLOGNA

UNDEAD PARISH

Despite Lex's earlier breakdown, he seemed to have recovered quickly, saying something about not worrying about dying as a phantom. As soon as he got off the elevator, he scribbled his name on the ground with the soapstone and leaned against the wall idly. Oscar got the more menial task of collecting titanite. Round and round the church he went, stopping at the bonfire in the old church to roll back time with each completed rotation. It was slow, thankless work, but at the very least, it gave Oscar plenty of time to practice parrying and to get used to weapons other than his holy sword that "wasn't worth upgrading."

Eventually, they had both completed their tasks and split up to turn in the spoils. Lex entrusted his sword to Oscar and sprinted down the church stairs, past the hollows, and toward the Altar of Sunlight. Oscar simply returned to the old church for the umpteenth time and continued down to the blacksmith.

"Ah, Sir Knight," Andre said as he approached, "have you found what you were searching for? Souls are easier to come by than ore these days. If you're short some, I'd be willing to part with some of my own stock, for a fee."

"My partner was… exacting in the amount of titanite we needed. Unless I miscounted, this should be sufficient."

With that, he removed a clinking bag from his belt and set it down on the smith's table, opening it. Inside were dozens of the coin-sized titanite shards occasionally carried by Balder Knights.

"It may be selfish to say this, but I am glad the Kingdom of Balder is no more. I would surely be an enemy of the state by now."

Andre threw back his head and laughed.

"And here I thought the nobility had no sense of humor. I'm Andre, as I said before. We were not properly acquainted, Sir Knight."

"I am Oscar, first son of the Count of Hillund. Not that it matters anymore. I fear Astora will not last. Even if the Flame is linked, the people will not forget what was done to them. But it is a pleasure to meet another who might remember Astora, Andre."

"Now that's a sad thought," he said wistfully. "But you didn't come here to talk politics. What was it that you needed smithing?"

"My companion needs his sword reinforced and I, my armor."

"What about your own sword?"

"He insisted that it wasn't worth the rare titanite it would take."

"Give it here. I'll give you an appraisal, on the house."

Oscar nodded and unbuckled his sheath, handing the belt to Andre. The blacksmith slid the sword from the scabbard, his broad hand making the handle look tiny. He looked intently at the blade and waved it through the air to test its weight and balance. Nodding, he sheathed it again and passed the belt back to Oscar.

"As I thought, one of Astora's holy swords. That's been passed down through your family for generations, hasn't it?"

Oscar nodded.

"There's a certain type of forging that's used to make unique weapons like those. It focuses a belief to make a weapon, and that makes those weapons very powerful. It also makes them very pure. It's hard to reinforce them because they reject attempts to alter them, even with titanite. I've heard that it's still possible, but that the titanite must also be purified."

"I can collect more," Oscar said, restraining his interest. "Do you know how to purify it?"

Andre shook his head.

"Legend says that purified titanite was the afterbirth of the titanite demons. I'd heard that the mad Duke was researching how to create more artificially, but I wouldn't believe it if I were you. You see how rare purified titanite is, now. If you find some, think long and hard about how you want to use it."

Oscar nodded solemnly.

"Well, let's see about the rest of your equipment, then."

Oscar handed over the claymore and his helmet before he began to remove the rest of his armor. After taking the souls as payment, Andre mentioned that the reinforcement would take quite some time but that sitting at the bonfire would make it go faster. Having nothing better to do and feeling a little cold in only his waistcloth, Oscar headed back upstairs. Sure enough, he had hardly sat down when Lex returned and insisted they at least check.

"Good timing, you two," Andre said as they rounded the corner, "I was just putting the finishing touches on. Your embroidery was wearing a little, Knight Oscar, so I touched it up for you."

In the massive man's rough, blunt fingers was a tiny needle, golden thread trailing from the end. He snipped the thread with his teeth and put the needle in a yellow-orange pincushion on his workbench. Oscar was a little dumbfounded between the time distortion of the bonfire and the revelation that the gruff old blacksmith was apparently a master tailor as well.

"Thank you, Andre," he said slowly.

"Exemplary work as usual," Lex said, giving his claymore a few practice swings.

The smith nodded but gave the cleric a questioning look. Lex didn't notice.

"We'll be back again soon enough, Andre," he said. "Let's go, Oscar. I want to see if we can kick fate in the 'nads right here and now."

The prophet or player or reader or whatever he wanted to be called right now led the knight back up the stairs and out the doorway they had ignored until then. There was a long bridge heading out of the forest and toward an immense cliffside. At the base of the cliff was an aging castle with its gates closed tight. As he looked closer, Oscar saw some sort of bulbous creature. Only upon reaching the steps to the fortress did he realize that it was one of Catarina's so-called "onion knights."

Lex approached casually and grunted. The knight, sitting on the ledge where the level of the interior floor continued before tuning to stairs, didn't notice. Or was dead. Either seemed likely. Lex stood there, waiting on a response that would never come, so Oscar stepped forward instead.

"Excuse us, Sir Knight of Catarina?"

"Mmm… Hrmmmmm…"

"Sir Knight? A moment of your time?"

"Mmm…mmm… Mm! Oh-hoh! Forgive me… I was absorbed in thought.

I am Siegmeyer of Catarina. Quite honestly, I have run flat up against a wall. Or, a gate, I should say. The thing just won't budge. No matter how long I wait.

And, oh, have I waited! So, here I sit, in quite a pickle. Weighing my options, so to speak! How can I help you, my friends?"

"What is it that you're after at Sen's Fortress, Knight Siegmeyer?" Lex asked.

"Ah, when I was a lad, I often read books of adventure. When I finally got old enough to venture out on my own, I had too many responsibilities. Unfortunate though it may have been, becoming Undead has given me the freedom to do so. I thought to tour the land of the Lords.

First on my list was the lost city of the gods. Legend has it that undead must first pass the tests of Sen's Fortress. How am I to be tested when the gates will not budge? The gods work in mysterious ways. You must already know that, Cleric…"

"Lex. Of Luthor. Prophet of Slaanesh. This is Oscar of Astora."

"Oh. Oh!" Siegmeyer said, rising to his feet. "A fellow knight! It is a pleasure to see a kindred spirit, though our homelands may differ!"

He shook Oscar's hand vigorously.

"And an honor to meet a Prophet! I am afraid I do not know your god, but this is a fine omen."

He clasped Lex's hand more formally.

"Knight Siegmeyer, it looks like you have the same problem I did," Oscar said casually. "We have only heard part of the legend. I did not know about the passage through this… Sen's Fortress. My family had often said that ringing the Bell of Awakening would reveal the Fate of the Undead. When I arrived here, I was disheartened to learn that there were two Bells. Lex, this is part of the… path… through the Prophecy, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Ring the two Bells, and one of the giants on the roof of the Fortress will pull the gates open. Siegmeyer, we're on our way to ring the first now. Why don't you come with us? The second's a pain in the ass, though. I wouldn't hold it against you if you decided not to go so far out of your way."

"Bells of Awakening, you say? If the gods require further testing, then Siegmeyer of Catarina shall not disappoint! Thank you, my friends! It would be my honor to assist you!"

Lex turned and led the pair of knights back across the bridge, up the stairs, and across the next bridge to the church. Between the three of them, the hollow soldiers standing guard in the side courtyard didn't stand a chance. As they'd done the first time, Oscar led the group up the stairs, using his shield to parry the Balder knight and fend off the pack of feral hollows. This time, instead of avoiding the ladder, Oscar went straight for it. At the top, he found himself on a narrow platform.

Across the ledge was a summon sign: Lautrec's. His lip curled into a snarl, and he continued up the next ladder. Here was a more familiar signature, shining golden like the sun. He knelt and traced the name with his finger. Siegmeyer was hefting his bulky armor over the ledge now.

"What a trying challenge indeed…"

He glanced down.

"Oh-hoh? Calling for additional aid? A wise decision. One can never have too many companions. A trial of the gods is a dangerous undertaking, indeed."

Lex came up last, just peeking his head over the edge.

"Oh, you've already tagged Solaire's sign. Grand. I'm going to try to speed things up a little, Oscar."

He reached into his bag and withdrew the basement key and the residence key, sliding them across the floor.

"There's an optional fight a short way through Darkroot Forest. I say optional, but it's really helpful for my type of bui- fighting style. And it'll help me get one of those magical rings I talked about earlier than I could otherwise. So I'm going to split for now."

"Leaving so soon?" Siegmeyer asked. "Could we not fight this other beast together as well?"

"Is this wise, Lex? You could barely stand a few hours ago," Oscar said sternly.

"It's fine. I'm not going to be doing the bulk of the fighting anyway. And I'm better now. Nothing to get your blood pumping like fighting a pair of giant, flying, stone monsters nine times in a row. Speaking of which: cut off the first one's tail to make it easier on you, and watch out for the second one's entrance so that you don't get boxed in.

When you finish with this, the entrance to the next area is where we me Solaire. There is a shortcut back to the Burg's bonfire once you're down the ladder. Be wary of ambushes at all times, and do not leave the first area until you've found that trapped idiot, Griggs of Vinheim. When you hit a fog wall, go right, and keep exploring until you've found the shortcut and the near-hollow merchant in the aqueduct. When you do return to the fog, you must rush out of the way of the demon's opening attack. Kill the dogs first, or the demon will kill you while they hold you down.

I'll meet you again there or at the door that can only be opened with the key that demon carries. Good luck and godspeed. DOOMRIDER!"

Lex slid down the ladder before Oscar or Siegmeyer could say anything else. Oscar had half a mind to chase after him, but at that moment, gleaming hands began to rise from the ground. The spirit of Solaire of Astora rose from the rotten wood like a golden statue, his arms spreading wider and wider in the sunrise motion of the Warriors of Sunlight. Unconsciously, Oscar mirrored the gesture. Siegmeyer, feeling left out, followed suit.

"Oscar, my friend! It is wondrous to see you again! I see you have acquired a new companion since we last met. But where is the first?"

Solaire's voice sounded distant, as if he was speaking at the end of a long tunnel. Oscar shook his head as he picked up the keys and tucked them away in a belt pouch.

"The prophet just ran off. Something about finding a magic ring. This is Siegmeyer of Catarina. Siegmeyer, this is my former captain, Solaire of Astora."

"Hello, then! Any friend of Oscar's is a friend of mine."

"The pleasure is mine! I never thought a country knight such as myself would meet not just one of Astora's elite, but a knight-captain as well!"

The two laughed and shared a jolly handshake.

"Let's not dally, my friends!" Siegmeyer continued. "The gods are watching, and the prophet has faith that we shall complete this trial and slay a demon further before his return! He has even provided us with the beast's weakness! We have nothing to fear!"

Solaire nodded.

"Prophet Lex and I have fought these beasts many times today, in many worlds. They are not so fearful as they appear."

"Between Lex's knowledge and your arm, Captain… I think they are the ones who should be afraid."

"Oh, you flatter me!" Solaire said, patting Oscar on the shoulder. "We should go before we chat through my summoning time."

"Right."

Oscar walked past him and pushed through the fog. It felt terribly cold, even through his armor, but then it was over. He stood on the rooftop and looked around. Armed gargoyles lined the sides. Oscar recoiled in panic.

"Bell Gargoyles," Lex had said. There were only supposed to be two of them, but there was something like a dozen lying in wait on either side of him. He tried to relax and think it through. Perhaps only two of them retained the spell that animated them. Solaire came through the fog next.

"What is it, Oscar? Do not worry. The roof is sound footing."

He patted Oscar on the back and continued halfway across the roof as Siegmeyer entered the fog and looked about. There was a sound like cracking stone on the other side of the roof. Oscar looked up at the bell tower and saw four more gargoyles lying in wait.

"Oh… Those gargoyles."

He drew up his binoculars and looked closer. Two of them seemed to be purely stone, but two had metal armor. One of these broke off an outer shell of clay and howled. It leapt into the air and crashed down onto the roof, sending an explosion of shingles everywhere. Solaire, unperturbed, hurled a lighting spear directly at it, shattering its nose.

It roared again and charged the knight, but the other two had stopped observing their surroundings and were likewise charging ahead. The beast jumped, aided by a wingbeat, and brought its rusted but still massive halberd down. Solaire blocked it with his sturdy shield, the sun icon of the god of war smiling even in the face of danger. Oscar ran to Solaire.

"Captain, switch!"

As the gargoyle prepared to swing its poleaxe again, Oscar took Solaire's place, shield raised high. Solaire backpedaled, raising another bolt high just as the weapon fell. Oscar, still unaware about the rules regarding parrying, blasted the massive halberd sideways and dove forward, driving his sword into the monster's left armpit. The stone was sturdy, but his holy sword was sturdier and dug all the way through. With a twist, he freed it, ripping the arm off.

The monster cried out in rage and raised its wings to flee, but Solaire cast his bolt forward, striking it in the face once more and stunning it. By now, Siegmeyer had reached his destination. If the plan was to cut off the monster's tail, then by Gwyn, he was going to cut off its tail. Huffing and puffing, he raised his zweihander and gave an overhand swing with all his might (and considerable weight) behind it. One hit was all it took, and the axe-bladed tail fell away.

There was another roar and another crash. Across the roof, the other gargoyle, already bereft of its tail, moved toward Siegmeyer.

"Knight Siegmeyer, behind you!" Solaire cried, strafing as he pulled out another bolt.

The first gargoyle, seeing the knights distracted, dusted up and away, seeking shelter with its ally. The newcomer drew its head back and sprayed a wall of flame across the roof. Siegmeyer, with no other choice, fell to the ground and rolled over his bulbous armor. Solaire hurled his spear, and with a noise like vomiting, it passed directly into gargoyle's mouth as it exhaled. The monster spasmed briefly before erupting into souls.

Oscar threw his sword into its scabbard quickly and grabbed the gargoyle's severed tail up off the rooftop. The cornered monster flailed wildly with its halberd. As he had thought, it was difficult to get close and difficult to time the parry. With the long tail, though, he had options. He whipped it underhanded, striking a glancing blow on the gargoyle's chin as it swung again.

The shaft of the halberd struck the armored plates of the tail and shuddered. Before the creature could recover, Oscar whirled the tail sideways and directly into the gargoyle's knuckles. With its grip already loosened by the vibrating weapon, it now dropped the weapon and one of its fingers as well. To say that a giant stone beast was defenseless might be a stretch, but it was close enough, so Solaire and Siegmeyer rushed toward it as well. Satisfied, Oscar dropped the tail and let his companions strike the final blows on the wounded monster.

It too erupted into souls and was gone. Solaire made his sunlight gesture once more as his golden phantom faded.

"Until we meet again!"

"What an amicable fellow," Siegmeyer commented, wheezing a little bit from the last sprint. "Now let's see about that Bell."

Oscar nodded, and the two knights approached the Bell tower. Inside was only a long ladder, stretching several storeys to the Bell itself. Siegmeyer took a hard look at the ladder.

"You may have the honor, Knight Oscar," he said. "I will watch our return path in case more of the creatures come to life."

Oscar grinned a little inside his helmet.

"Thank you, Knight Siegmeyer. I will graciously accept."

With that, he began the long climb to the top. Once he had, he found a way outside to a balcony. The view was stunning. In the distance was Sen's Fortress and the mysterious Darkroot. Behind him was another ladder to the Bell itself.

The view from here was even better, and he could see the whole of Lordran, much like when the crow had carried him. The Bell itself was at least impressively huge – as tall as he was, certainly. He took hold of the tassel affixed to the clapper and rung it once. Strangely, the noise didn't threaten to shred his inner ears. It almost felt as if the Bell was ringing inside him.

He shrugged and made his way down the first ladder and then the second. When he reached the bottom, he found Siegmeyer avoiding a masked man dressed all in black.

"Greetings. I am Oswald of Carim, the Pardoner. Thou art a friend. For thee, a warm welcome. Cometh thou to confess? Or to accuse? For indeed all sin is my domain."

As Oscar climbed off the ladder and faced him, Oswald was taken aback.

"Thou hast committed a grave sin, truly. Where is the Chosen Undead?"

"I'm afraid that prophecy is ruined," Oscar said sharply. "The prophet of Slaanesh says that it was my fate to die in the Undead Asylum. I do not fear sin."

"I shall accept thy confession, but…"

In a flash, the Pardoner's hand was within his robe and out again, having drawn a long, thin blade that had been nearly impossible to see pressed against his long stocking. The rapier whipped up and slashed through Oscar's newly-repaired tunic as he threw himself backward. He had no time to recover from the sudden movement, as the dark cleric slashed down across his chest.

"Oscar!" Siegmeyer cried, readying his own blade.

The Pardoner struck like wicked lightning the tip of his blade repeatedly piercing through Catarina's rounded armor. Siegmeyer fell, but Oscar roared and rushed forward with his own sword drawn. The Pardoner leapt back, floating in the air like a god before touching down gracefully. Oscar rushed him again but slammed his foot into the floor at the last moment and pushed backward, avoiding the Pardoner's thrust and countering with one of his own. The holy sword glinted with white light as it lanced through the dark cleric's robe and drew dark blood.

The Pardoner roared as he swung again, but this attack was sloppy, panic driving him. Oscar deflected the blade and struck once more, running the sacred Astoran weapon through the Pardoner's black heart. Oswald gasped, grabbing hold of Oscar.

"Thou shalt regret this… Fear thine indelible wrongdoings…"

With that, he faded into souls, and Oscar rushed to the wounded Siegmeyer.

"Siegmeyer, are you-!"

The older knight groaned.

"Forgive me. I was caught entirely off-guard. I was waiting for the right moment to get back in the thick of it, but when the time came, you had already finished it."

He sat up.

"What could have possessed the Pardoner to do that? Hmmmm…"

Oscar extended a hand to him, pulling him up. The weight was almost worse than the Taurus Demon's axe.

"It sounds like the gods aren't testing us. They're testing the Chosen Undead. Lex."

"Oh. Then what are we to do?"

"Lex's prophecies haven't been wrong until now. The way he told me they worked, this isn't possible. He told me that he wanted to change fate… Now, fate is changing on its own. Let's hurry to that next demon. He may be in more danger than he realizes."


	10. Like a record, Oscar, round round round

Oscar found himself in quite a pickle. The shortest way to the grand balcony where he and Lex had met Solaire in the flesh was to cross the bridge. It seemed simple enough, but scorch marks like the ones covering the bridge's length weren't the sort of thing that arose from the occasional fire. Things had a tendency to rot and fade in Lordran, but the soot covering the stone was fresh. If what he feared was true, that huge drake could come back at any time.

"Siegmeyer, you can't run very fast while armored, can you?"

"Oh, don't beat around the bush, my friend. I am well aware that I have packed on the pounds since my younger days."

The older knight chuckled heartily until the old pew he was sitting on broke.

"Perhaps more than I thought."

He picked himself up, no more the worse for wear. There were still holes in his breastplate from the Pardoner's sword, but Oscar's Estus had healed the worst of the damage to his body.

"We'll have to go around," Oscar said, sighing. "The direct path might have us trying to outrun a drake. I'm not sure I could make it myself. Although… Perhaps there is a way."

He led Siegmeyer out through the church's side door and past the fallen hollow soldiers. He sprinted up the stairs and across the wooden pathway, stabbing the Balder knight up and through its ribcage before it could react. With that, the way to the front of the church was cleared without having to fight through the three knights in the atrium. The rest of the way through to the Altar of Sunlight was just hollow soldiers, but the crossbow snipers would prove troublesome. Oscar glanced about and found the trident he had cast aside earlier, taking it with him as he approached the gate.

Silently, he backstabbed the soldier on the church side and looked up at the snipers, who were facing away from them. The winged spear he had thrown at the fang boar was nearby on the cobblestones as well. The elite knight exhaled, drew the trident back, and hurled it at one of the snipers. The hollow was pierced through the gut and went crashing onto the stones below.

"Go!"

Oscar dashed ahead and under the sniper's bridge, sliding to scoop up the spear. The hollow fired at him, but he whipped his shield around just in time. Meanwhile, Siegmeyer thundered through and smashed the hollow swordsman's shield with enough force to send it flying, and his followup cleft the zombie neatly in two. By now, Oscar had risen and threw again, slaying the second sniper. Siegmeyer moved on to the spear-wielding soldier now and shattered its spear as it attacked.

"Oho!" he cried jubilantly. "You should not underestimate the strength of a family man!"

He hacked its head off with little effort and turned to face the last swordsman as Oscar pulled the spear from the sniper's body. Without Lex's lightning, they were sorely lacking in range. This would have to do for now. The older man made short work of the last hollow, and they continued to the gate. Here, Oscar pointed to a narrow alleyway.

"If we try running across the bridge from here, we'd be sitting ducks. There is a path below to the Burg. We can cut halfway across before risking the monster's return."

Siegmeyer nodded. They both attuned to the bonfire ahead just in case, and then Oscar descended the ladder.

UNDEAD BURG

He cleared through the rats with ease. Compared to the Gargoyles or the Pardoner, they were neither strong nor fast. A mere nuisance. Likewise for the hollows blocking their path on the ledge and then again on the bridge supports.

They entered the next room without event. Oscar briefly considered descending the ladder to the Burg and taking the long way around, but with Lex possibly in danger, time was of the essence. Silently, he made his way halfway up the stairs and looked around with his binoculars.

"I don't see it. We might be fine, but be prepared to run."

"If I must," Siegmeyer said, sighing.

Oscar walked up onto the bridge. The moment he was completely clear of the stairs, he heard a roar overhead.

"Down!" he shouted, falling back on top of Siegmeyer.

They tumbled down the stairs as a wave of flames passed overhead. Oscar rose first, regretfully giving Siegmeyer a hand again.

"Oh my. My head is spinning," Siegmeyer groaned.

"Sorry. I didn't have much time to react."

"It's quite all right. But it seems we've run flat up against a wall… of flame, no less!"

"We'll have to take another way around. Fighting through the Burg and crossing the upper bridge again will take time. There has to be a faster way."

"Didn't Prophet Lex mention some shortcuts? He did not say where the first was, but the second was in an aqueduct. The one overlooking Firelink, I would think."

"Hm."

"Weighing your options?"

"I'm used to following Lex's directions in order. There's no telling what starting from the end will do… But he didn't predict the Pardoner's attack. Defying fate may be our best defense if a goddess is out for our blood. I am sorry for this, Siegmeyer. I didn't realize-"

"Think nothing of it, my friend! Why, I couldn't ask for a grander adventure! Now where was that aqueduct?"

Oscar led Siegmeyer down the stairs into the tower and down the ladder to the bonfire. Between the two of them, the feral hollows guarding the front of the Burg were little trouble, and they had soon made it back down to the aqueduct's interior.

"That way is where we entered, so the shortcut must be down here," Oscar said, continuing down the tunnel to the west.

Eventually, they came upon a grate that blocked the whole tunnel. Oscar looked through the bars.

"This is why he said to do this last. It opens from that side but not from this one. Look, there's a handle. We'll have to go back through the Burg. Damn it!"

"Don't give up so easily, my friend. You'd be amazed at what can be overcome with a little willpower. Let me try."

Oscar moved aside so that Siegmeyer could reach the grate. He slung his sword over his back and grabbed hold of the bars with both hands.

"Siegmeyer, that grate must have been made to withstand-"

The older knight roared, and the grate ripped free with the screeching of steel. He fell back onto Oscar, getting them both soaked.

"How did you-! No, I've seen stranger things already."

"You see, Oscar, you just need to use a little elbow grease!"

He chuckled as he picked himself up, extending a hand to Oscar. The tunnel continued onward for a bit before they came upon another grate and an exit. Behind the grate stood what seemed a hollow, but then she began speaking.

"Hmm, you still have your senses about you? Then why won't you buy some of my moss? I need your souls!"

She began cackling wildly. Siegmeyer was still in front, so he elected to speak with her.

"I'm afraid we are short on time, my dear lady! I will surely buy some of your moss when I pass through again. I won't be caught ill-prepared when I face the poisons of Blighttown."

"Hmph. Fine then," the near-hollow merchant said, crossing her arms.

Siegmeyer nodded and then turned to the exit. They were in another tower with a spiral staircase, like the one Lex and Oscar had passed through before fighting the Taurus Demon. They hurried down the stairs, only stopping to kill an archer standing on a platform midway down. Outside of the tower, there was a door a little bit to the left, with the remainder of the path blocked by a high fence. To the right was a long path leading to some stairs.

A hooded cutthroat blocked the path, its back turned to them, while another lay in ambush in an alcove that would have been hidden had they passed through the other way.

"This must be the locked door," Oscar mused.

"Oho! We've arrived quite swiftly. Let's hurry and save this 'Griggs' fellow."

Oscar nodded, and they approached the hollow ambushers. The one facing them threw a knife at Oscar as he approached, but he deflected it easily with his shield and broke into a charge. Surprised, the other hollow started after him, but found itself looking up at its own legs after a swing from Siegmeyer. As they started up the stairs, they heard growls from behind. They whipped around after the unseen noise, and two half-rotten hollow dogs lunged down at them from above.

Oscar fended off the one that had come at him with his shield, barely keeping the slavering maw away from his throat. He batted the dog back and swung at it, clipping it as it jumped out of his reach. Siegmeyer had less trouble. He had caught his own assailant on the solid spike sticking out of the center of his shield. With his long sword too unwieldy on the narrow staircase, he simply wrapped his other arm around its neck and yanked.

Now there was only the one dog, looking hungrily between the two knights. Smelling meat through the holes in Siegmeyer's armor, it leapt at him, only to be smashed into the wall by the spiked shield. The knights continued up the stairs. At the top, the path to the right was blocked by the white fog.

"Here's our next fight," Oscar said.

They continued down the narrow road, approaching tightly-packed tenements. As they walked between them, the doors burst open, and three more ambushers rushed out. Siegmeyer jumped and swung his zweihander blindly. In a stroke of good luck, it slashed two across the chests before they could react, and they collapsed in a heap. The last came at Oscar with a knife, but he parried it simply enough and ran his sword through its gut.

"'Be wary of ambushes.' He could have been more specific."

"That was quite exhilarating!" Siegmeyer said, laughing it off. "Don't worry so much, Oscar."

The elite knight just shook his head, lest he go into some rant about the importance of proper battlefield intelligence. It never got through to the Captain, so why would it get through to this jolly old adventurer? They continued down the road for a bit, when another dog came upon them. With only one, it was easy. Oscar blocked its initial lunge, and Siegmeyer struck it before it could react.

As they approached another group of apartments, they slowed, preparing for another ambush. Two more dogs rushed toward them. They caught the beasts on their shields and counterattacked, having grown used to the animals' speed. As they moved forward, to the center between the apartments, the doors finally burst open, and the assassins ran out to encircle them. Still, it was only three against two, so the knights stood back to back and waited for the onslaught.

One raised its arm to throw a knife, but it had misjudged the sheer length of Siegmeyer's zweihander, finding itself spitted in a flash. Another tried to take advantage of the opening, but Oscar whirled around and parried before hacking off the assailant's arm. The last assassin charged, but now it was Siegmeyer's turn, spinning to decapitate it before it got anywhere near Oscar. He put one hand to the front of his helmet.

"Oh, I may be sick. Remind me to never do that again!"

"Can do."

Oscar pat Siegmeyer on the back and waited while they both caught their breath. The road continued for a while further, and there was also a staircase heading up. Near the base of the stairs was a massive pile of burning bodies. Strangely, it didn't smell very strongly. Oscar wondered morbidly if his sense of smell wasn't already rotted away.

Eventually, they continued down the road, watching the doors for more assassins. As they passed one of them, they heard a muffled voice coming from inside.

"Somebody! Please, let me out of here! Somebody, anybody! Help me! Unlock the door!

Damn… I'm finished… How did this ever happen…"

Oscar lifted his visor so that his words wouldn't be muffled and leaned against the door.

"This could be another trap. What is your name?"

"I am Griggs of Vinheim! A sorcerer of the school! Please, let me out!"

Oscar reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the key, unlocking the door. He opened it slowly, looking inside for hollows. There was only the sorcerer and countless barrels, with another, dead, hollowed sorcerer trapped inside one. The knight wondered if Lex had been mistaken when he said that Griggs was trapped in a barrel or if this other sorcerer had stolen the real Griggs' identity. For now, he would have to assume that this was the real one.

"Brilliant! You opened the door for me! Thank you; I am saved. I thought I might never escape. As I said, I am Griggs of Vinheim. I am much obliged for your assistance. Thanks to you, I may now resume my travels."

"I am Oscar of Astora, and this is my companion, Siegmeyer of Catarina."

Siegmeyer's head bobbed.

"The Prophet of Slaanesh saw that you were trapped here. Are you all right?"

"I am fine. I will rest a while, then return to Firelink Shrine. I have my sorcery. And I will be more cautious next time. Besides, I have an important task at hand."

"Understood," Oscar said.

"We would join you," Siegmeyer added, "but we find ourselves short on time. Best of luck to you!"

"Give the prophet my thanks," Griggs replied, a little uneasy at the idea.

Seeing nothing but feral hollows down the road, Oscar doubled back to the stairs. At the top, the knights found a split. One path led to a ladder – presumably the one that they were meant to take. The other led up some precarious stairs to the Burg. The door here only opened from the side they were on, which is why they had ignored it before. Still, it was only a short distance from the bonfire, just across the narrow bridge overlooked by the firebombers.

They turned back now, with only one thing left to do. They approached the fog gate slowly, thinking about the fight ahead.

"Lex said that we needed to watch out for the demon's opening attack. And more dogs."

"These fog walls make it terribly difficult to make a plan when you need one most," Siegmeyer said, sighing.

He looked up at the archway it blocked and the wall that was a part of. It was the height of about three men – not particularly tall but still enough that it could both trap and conceal the demon.

"If only we could find a way to see over it. Mmm. Hmmmmm."

"Wait. Siegmeyer, that's it!"

He tugged at the ivy crawling up the walls. It was tough, but it wouldn't hold a man in armor for more than a moment. He turned back to Siegmeyer.

"Can you lift me?"

"Oh-hoh! You underestimate me! Once, my Lin sprained her ankle while we were training, and I carried her all the way back to her room! She was so embarrassed, she wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the afternoon!"

He laughed as he crouched down and cupped his hands. Oscar stood on this makeshift foothold and carefully clutched at Siegmeyer's shoulder as he began moving upward. At his maximum height, he stepped off, placing one foot onto the thin outcropping of stone from the arch and jamming the other against the wall's corner. He strained his body upward and grabbed hold of the crenelation atop the wall.

Inside was a long courtyard. Several doors opened out to it, and stairs descended from one on the second storey. Next to the stairs was an apple tree. Next to the tree was a demon similarly-sized to the previous one, but much narrower. It had a lean, athletic body, but its head was an oversized goat's skull. Four glowing, fleshy eyes peered up at him.

Following their master's gaze, two more hollow dogs began growling and pacing beneath Oscar, blocking the entrance. He heaved himself over the relatively narrow wall and dropped to a rotten balcony. He held his breath, but the moldy wood didn't collapse beneath him.

"Siegmeyer! Get ready!"

Oscar loosed the spear from his back and held it high, setting one foot on the balcony's railing. By now, the demon had casually made its way to him. It squinted and swung its massive cleavers back in anticipation. If it wanted, it could easily take out both Oscar and the balcony.

"Now!"

He lurched forward, jumping off of the railing as it crumpled beneath his foot. The speartip plunged downward, digging straight into the demon's shoulder. He swung as the pole bent under his weight and kicked one dog into the other before tumbling with them into the tree. Siegmeyer pushed through the fog as fast he could and recoiled to see the demon before him.

"Well, you're quite the tall one!" he said, gripping his zweihander tightly.

It took a step back and wove its fingers together.

"Oh my!" he cried, diving under as the demon swung both of its swords at once.

As Oscar rose, he quickly jerked out his sword and stabbed one dog through the throat. The other latched onto his shield arm and began gnawing. Unable to use his sword properly this close, he punched it in the head repeatedly, its teeth tearing his flesh through his mail. Eventually, its grip slackened, and he quickly slit its throat and rose to his feet. Across the courtyard, the demon was drawing its swords back for an overhead swing. Siegmeyer had not yet regained his feet, and even if he had, there was little room to maneuver.

"Siegmeyer! Roll!"

"Oh, not again," he complained.

The demon lunged, but Siegmeyer slipped just beneath its feet as it crashed down to earth. Oscar sprinted forward, hopping over the other knight and jabbing his sword right into the demon's other shoulder. He twisted the blade as the demon rose from its attack and tried to throw him off. Now, Siegmeyer finally got back to his feet and rushed after it. It dropped its blades and tried to claw at Oscar, but Siegmeyer took one wide swing after another, striking one arm or both.

Eventually, even its unnatural toughness was not enough, and it dropped to its knees exhausted before erupting into souls, leaving only a key and its fallen blades behind. Oscar and Siegmeyer both collapsed as well. The older knight started laughing in relief, and it turned out to be contagious.

"That was… quite the fight…"

"Oh! I could do with a nap for now!"

"Come on. Let's get to that door."

Oscar grabbed the key and hopped to his feet, too tired to help Siegmeyer up this time. The onion knight finally got up on his own, joints cracking from the exertion. Tired and ready for a bonfire, they hauled their tired bodies out of the courtyard. Much to their surprise, they saw Lex approaching from past the tenements down the road. He waved as he ran toward them. It was only as he got closer that they noticed there was someone else with him, a woman in a tattered black gown, with a tall, floppy hat.


	11. 9 is a magic number

UNDEAD PARISH

Lex ran. The Gargoyles were going to be a wash, but he had no idea how long the Capra Demon would slow Oscar down. It had taken him hours upon hours that first time, but now he could usually do it on the first try. Oscar seemed to have a better head on him in general and was an experienced soldier on top of that. Fighting a dangerous opponent in a closed space like that could be nerve-wracking, but he had the feeling that it wouldn't slow the knight down half as much as he needed.

So he ran. He ran down through the church, across the bridge, and down to the bonfire. He ran past Andre, gave the titanite demon in the next room a wide berth, and ran straight into Darkroot.

DARKROOT GARDEN

He killed the first ent or treant or whatever non-copyrighted name was actually correct for the shrubbery monsters that infested the Garden and then the second. He stabbed the top of the third lying in ambush and swung again at the fourth that rushed him in response. He grabbed the soul off the corpse lying behind the rock and continued to the sealed door. He ignored it and instead kicked at the damaged wall beside it. The long-suffering bricks finally gave loose, avalanching through to the other side and revealing a bonfire.

The cleric attuned to this bonfire and continued on his way. He entered a cave and stabbed three more shrubberies lying in wait before grabbing the soul they had been using as bait for unsuspecting Undead. Outside the cave was a fog wall, which he passed through casually.

"You know, that armor over there was supposed to be Oscar's, as part of the cut storyline or something. I wonder if it's still there even though he's alive now."

He reached to his belt and patted empty air.

"That bastard still has my binoculars. Well, I'm sure as hell not backtracking just to see if I can spook him with his own corpse."

Lex followed the glowing flowers around the stone soldiers as he approached the ruined tower. The last one, of course, was completely unavoidable since it was lying right in front of the door. He took a moment to relax and then sprinted past it, ducking under the stairs and digging amongst the tall grass that had grown up through the broken floor. A white summon sign materialized, and he slapped it repeatedly before running up the stairs. The golem was slow, but its thundering footfalls came closer and closer.

The cleric had already backed against the fog wall, but the thing just drew closer and closer. The shrieking sound of a phantom breaking through the fabric of reality echoed out from below. There were only moments left before the stone knight was in melee range. Really, Lex could get away by rolling off the stairs and back to the ground, but that was less dramatic. A witch with a tall popped collar and too many zippers walked up the stairs behind it.

"Are you shitting me? Is this going to be another fight where some lame-ass summoner makes me do everything? You can't even take this loser out on your own? If summons could harm their summoners, you'd be in for a world of hurt, dipshit."

She raised her gnarled, intricately carved staff into the air and fired a massive blast of soul energy, blowing the head clean off the stone knight. Lex applauded sarcastically.

"Let's just get this over with, jackass," she said.

"I'm pretty sure this is why only Dusk is allowed to talk in-game."

"Go now, or I soapstone out, free souls be damned."

"Yeah, yeah."

Lex pushed through the fog. The Moonlight Butterfly was beautiful in game. Less so as graphics improved, but at least it was artful, which is more than he could say about most of the genre. In real life, of course, it was stunning. And it was his solemn duty as an American to murder the ever-loving hell out of it in the name of progress.

As it rose from its perch, he raised his talisman and fired off a massive bolt of lightning. When it struck the Butterfly, it shuddered in midair, and a huge cloud of iridescent dust exploded across the narrow bridge. Beatrice had entered just as it struck.

"Oh, hey, you're not completely useless. Good job on meeting the bare minimums of adequacy."

She raised her staff again, conjuring five orbs of soul energy around her. As they shot after the airborne butterfly, she raised it again and fired off another piercing blast that was allegedly a "Soul Spear" and definitely not a Mega Buster charge shot. The Butterfly had no room to counterattack as Lex hurled another Great Lightning Spear.

"Hey, speaking of Butterflies, do you know what the Butterfly Effect is? You know, where something small happens, and it makes something bigger happen unexpectedly?"

"Yeah. I'm not a dumbass just because I didn't go to Vinheim."

"Right, so, where I come from, there's a story based off the name. This guy goes back in time, accidentally kills a butterfly, and comes back to find that everyone is really aggressive now. Like if the entire world talked like you've been talking, except all the time."

"What's your damned point?" Beatrice said, turning to face him as the Butterfly exploded into soul energy.

"You die fighting the Four Kings. Later!"

"What the f-!"

The phantom faded before she could get any further information out of him.

"Well, I wonder if that helped or if it just made her more likely to rush in unprepared."

He shrugged. Now it was just a matter of crossing the bridge, going up the stairs and retrieving the watchtower basement key and the divine ember. Or so he thought. Blocking his path, quite unexpectedly, was a golden crystal golem.

"What? What! What the-?"

He backed up as it lumbered toward him. Half the floor of the tower's upper level had crumbled, and half of what was left was covered in the petrified blacksmith's belongings.

"Dammit, Seath! I should have known you'd Xanatos something! You lousy, blind, traitorous-!"

The golem lumbered toward him, so he was forced to put an end to his ranting and retreat part of the way down the stairs. The golem raised its arm, and the crystals began to propagate rapidly, forming a human hand. The golem had just flipped him off.

"Wait, hold on a minute. What?"

The golem didn't wait for his confusion to subside. Instead, it swung its arms and jumped off the stairs, falling several storeys and shattering on the tower floor below. Lex shrugged went back to the top to claim his prizes. On the way back down, he was a little more cautious. There was no telling what other surprises might be in store.

"Took you long enough, shit-for-brains."

For example, Beatrice could be waiting for him amidst the ruins of the shattered golem.

"What was that shit about me dying? We're Undead, dipshit. We don't die."

"Look, I don't know how it happens. All I know is that after _I _fight the Four Kings, I would follow up by looting your corpse in the Valley of Drakes. Don't ask me why it's there, either. I don't know. But if I had to guess, with Kaathe and the Darkwraiths and the Four Kings and Artorias and Manus all gathered in that dank man-cave, the Abyss is a no-girls-allowed club."

Beatrice snickered.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Well, the real joke is that the Primordial Man is named _Man_-us, and he has a giant hand, which is what _manus_ means anyway. If you ask me, it's giant because of all that masturbating he does to Princess Dusk, but we all have our vices, so I'll not bash him over it."

"You're messed up, kid."

"Hey. I am the prophet of the goddess of sex, drugs, and rock &amp; roll. This is tame."

"Whatever, kid. Back to work for me, then."

"Eh? What do you mean?"

"I've fought that damned Butterfly at least a hundred times trying to figure out how it casts those fricking laser beams. I almost had it, but then you went and pissed me off! I had to sidetrack and get myself kidnapped by those dumbass Channelers so I could freeze myself and travel to the future! 'course I hijacked its programming to wander over here and let me out however many decades later you got your slow ass over here."

She paused.

"Oh yeah!"

She hit him over the top of the head with her staff.

"Piss off, dipshit! I'm immortal! I'm not going to hollow just because some dusty old Kings slapped me around a little bit! All the rest of you Undead are just losers!"

"You know- ow!"

She hit him again.

"I bet- ow! Will you just listen to me? I was like that too, but then I almost died, and-"

"Wait. You _almost_ died."

She snickered.

"Almost. Allllmost. Most Undead don't start freaking out until they've kicked the bucket at least once! What are you, a baby? Calling you 'kid' was too much – you're even lamer!"

She was nearly cackling now and looked every bit a witch.

"That's the _best part_. You haven't lived 'til you've died."

She settled down a little.

"Of course, I know the experience can be a little much for most people. It drives them mad. Power is said to do that, after all."

"Well… then…" Lex said, edging away slowly. "That's… interesting… I guess. I'm just going to let you get back to it, then."

Sure, he acted a little crazy sometimes. "Mad with power" was how he'd described his goal in Lordran, after all. Sticking around with a death-obsessed sorcerer wasn't exactly a good idea, though.

"Hey, prophet. Before you go, what kind of sorceries do they use in this time?"

"Uh. Big Hat Logan is about to discover the secret to Seath's crystal sorceries."

"No shit? Man, forget the Butter-lasers! It's not like dweebs are going to stop getting blasted to hell and back if I leave for a while. Lead the way, minion!"

"Hey, I'm the one who's supposed to have minions!"

This time the staff went in his face.

"What the hell?!"

"Relax, scrub. I'll do all the heavy lifting. Don't you worry your pretty little head."

She marched him back across the bridge and down the tower. They followed the glowing flowers back, but at the end of the trail, he stopped.

"There's one more thing I need to get while we're here."

"This shit better be important."

"Uhhhhh… in a historical sense. Also, it might be useful to this guy I know."

She shook her head and sighed but said, "Go on then, kid."

He moved to the cliff face surrounding the basin they were in and approached a large tree. He stabbed it viciously, and it erupted into souls. The death of the tree-creature revealed a previously-hidden path. Halfway along it, another strange creature appeared. It looked like a poisonous frog, but its skin seemed to spread across the forest floor.

"Holy shit! Kill it with fire!" Beatrice shouted, blasting a hole through its head with a Great Soul Arrow.

Lex grumbled something under his breath and continued. He stabbed another fake tree blocking their path and kept moving. They were in a wider basin now, but he kept on target, going into some ruins to the right. There was a long ramp inside, and halfway up, a stone knight began to rise. Before it finished standing, he reached out and crushed its head with a Great Lightning Finger.

At the top of the ramp was a long-dead corpse. Clutched in its death grip was a plain steel ring with the image of a wolf carved into the face.

"The ring of the Abysswalker, though not the one we really want," he said.

"Yeah, I don't give a shit."

They both made a running leap over the chasm directly below and landed where Lex had fought the second group of shrubberies, before the bonfire. Now, Lex led her back toward the Parish. Halfway there, he sidetracked and took a side path, walking down into the vast canyon below.

DARKROOT BASIN

As they descended, they spotted a crystal lizard in the distance.

"Dibs."

Beatrice blasted it, causing it to drop dead on the spot without even having a chance to run.

"I don't think sorcery can normally shoot that far."

"Then the sorcerers of the future suck."

"Did you really have no issues cryogenically freezing yourself like that?"

"Cryo nothing. That's crystal; not ice, dipshit."

Lex sighed.

"Look, kid, sorcery is what I do. It's who I am. It's in my blood. I don't give two shits about anything else. I can learn the Moonlight Butterfly's shit two hundred years ago or next Thursday. Learning Seath's secrets? That's worth _actually_ dying for."

"I guess I see your point. It's not like I really have any reason for risking my life other than Lawful Good tendencies."

"I have no idea what the hell you just said."

"Yeah, it's a prophet thing."

"Whatever, dweeb."

Lex stuffed another whole lizard into his bag, and after insisting that Beatrice could examine its seemingly infinite capacity later, they continued downward. Once they were nearing the end, Lex split off to collect the hunter's set before doubling back with Beatrice and descending the ledge still further instead of continuing into the main body of the Basin.

"Okay, so there's a really tough guy down here. Get ready to blast him after I get him up here."

Lex turned the corner slowly, and the Black Knight came into view. His breath seized up for a moment, and he felt a phantom pain in his gut where the last one had stabbed him. He took an iron grip on his talisman and raised it high. It sparked to life with a vengeance, and he threw with all his might. The bolt struck the Knight before it noticed him, but as before, the damage seemed to have no affect.

Lex sidestepped and started sprinting up the cliff.

"Firefirefirefirefire!"

He ran past her and then stopped suddenly. Something was wrong. Five. Seven. Nine. Beatrice somehow had four more soul masses floating around her than the maximum. The range was something he might have misjudged, but it was hard to miscount glowing energy balls.

As she fired a soul spear, the masses rocketed away as well. The Black Knight was bombarded with a hail of soul power as it rounded the corner and exploded into ash, not even granted the dignified death animation that the last one had.

"That shit wasn't hard, you baby!"


	12. Poor decisions and a bag full of corpses

Lex wandered down to the bottommost ledge and retrieved the grass crest shield from the body there before returning to the Black Knight's cave. Beatrice was seated at the bonfire, playing with the various zippers on her gown and hat.

"The hell are we doing, anyway? I thought we we going to see this Logan guy, but we're wandering around in this shithole."

"I said that Logan was about to uncover Seath's secrets. He hasn't done it yet."

"Then say so earlier, kid. Hell. I could've kept working on flutterbutt while I was waiting, but now I can't be assed to walk back over there. Guess I'll just stick with you until we meet Big Ass Scrotum or whatever."

"Isn't this setting supposed to be medieval? Where did you even learn to talk like that?"

"Setting?" Beatrice asked, finally taking an interest in what Lex said. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty dramatic. This whole 'Fate of the Undead' business is more shit than most of the fairy tales I've heard. And those at least have a lesson for the snot-nosed brats. Anyway, my pops was a merc, so yeah."

"I guess that makes sense," Lex said, shrugging. "I'd kind of assumed you were part of some long line of witches trained alone in the woods by their mothers… or something… Are you ready to move out?"

"Move out? You a priest or a soldier, kid?"

She rose and stamped the bottom of her staff on Lex's foot. The thin leather shoes provided little in the way of defense, so he started hopping in pain.

"Ow ow ow ow. It's complicated. Eugh. Come on, we're going out the other side to grab something real quick."

He led her deeper into the cave. There was a long metal shaft at the end. He pulled the lever beside it, and an elevator rose up. They both got on, and the pressure plate released the lock on the chains, sending it back down. They walked out of a small ruin and onto a large pile of rubble.

VALLEY OF DRAKES

Ahead lay a bridge and on the other side, the great sealed gates of New Londo. Between the ruin and there were a number of blue drakes. The one on the bridge had been enormous, one of the first of a new breed which the heroes of times to come would mistake for true dragons. These were "only" the size of particularly large horses.

"I need to get halfway across that bridge," Lex said, pointing. "That means that we're going to have to fight the one in front of the bridge and the one on the bridge itself. The ones on the other side will probably come after me, but I think I can outrun them. Can you provide fire support?"

"I'm thinking soldier now. Hell, you've only mentioned your god like once or twice."

Taking that for a yes, Lex slid down the rubble and approached the first drake. It stomped around to look directly at him and screeched. He ran toward it, and it lashed its neck forward for a bite. He sidestepped and swung his claymore with both hands, tearing into the tough scales. It tried to pivot around to bite him again, but he swung a second time, causing it to recoil from pain.

Lex backed up and circled around. Two hits to stagger. He could get in a third attack, but he'd have neither the time nor the stamina to use a fourth. Or so he thought before Beatrice blasted its head off.

"I don't have all day musclehead!" she shouted, walking toward the bridge.

She fired another soul spear and vaporized the drake midway across before it could react.

"There. Now go loot that corpse, and let's get a move on."

Lex grumbled to himself and ran to the brigand corpse. He tried to remove its equipment, assuming it would just slide free like when he had removed his gloves without taking off his ring. They remained stubbornly attached to the corpse, and two of the three drakes on the far side of the bridge were beginning to take an interest in him. He swore under his breath and dragged the thing up onto his lap. He tried sticking its head into his bag, and when that work, he quickly stuffed the whole thing in, the body deforming like putty as he stuffed it into the tiny container.

By now, the drakes were actually meandering toward the bridge, so he stood up and sprinted across to the other side. Beatrice was waiting for him at the ruin, so he ran straight up the rubble pile and onto the elevator.

DARKROOT BASIN

"Well, that's one thing down," he said, breathing heavily.

"I can't believe you just risked your damn life to grab some dead guy. You a necromancer or what?"

"Nah, I just want his bracers and shield, and grabbing the whole body was faster than taking them off. Necromancy would be really cool, though."

"Holy shit. And people call me crazy."

Lex shrugged.

"So what now, Cleric-Commander?"

"Can you deal with a hydra?"

"Are you sure you feel like pissing off the dragon-god of sorcery by killing his guard dog? I mean, I've stolen shit from him before, but this just screams 'bad idea.'"

"Huh. So Seath was still sane in your time."

"Nah, he was fricking nuts, but you don't go pissing off someone who literally breathes curses."

"We're going to kill him later, actually. If you stand in his crotch, he'll just flail around without hitting you most of the time."

"No shit?"

Lex nodded.

"Let's get a move on, then," he said. "You take out the hydra, and I'll open the path ahead."

They walked back up the ledge to the main body of the Basin. Though trees blocked much of it, in the distance, the massive dragon descendant loomed over the lake, its seven heads slavering. A number of crystal golems dotted the hill approaching the lake. As the pair approached, a few of them began making their way over.

"Later!" Lex said, giving a curt wave as he ran up the other side of the hill.

Beatrice scratched her head with her staff. Magic wouldn't really work against the golems, but they weren't the main concern anyway. She took a zig-zagging path down the bowl, hitting each golem with her staff as she passed. Soon, they were all chasing her as she made a beeline straight for the hydra. There was a colossal slurping sound, and the hydra drew its heads up to their full height.

Suddenly, all seven heads lurched forward, hacking up balls of water the size of minivans. Beatrice dove to one side, and was sent flying as the explosive slash caught her from behind. She was thoroughly soaked, but she's achieved her objective: the golems were in pieces where she had been standing moments earlier. Not waiting for it to take another shot, she scrambled to her feet and hid behind a large boulder near the water.

"Kid gloves are off, you shit."

She raised her staff high, and soul energy began to pour out around her like a fog. The head of the catalyst flashed white, and a massive wall of magic poured out, splitting into four soul spears while in flight. The spears shot wide but then converged again at the base of the necks. The souls tore into flesh, each spear driving through several necks before dispersing. In an instant, each of the seven heads crashed into the lake before the whole thing exploded into souls.

Lex, meanwhile, was having a much more difficult time. He'd fitted the tower basement key into the lock and turned it, but the instant he pulled the door open, there was a rush of air as stone fell mere inches from his face. Bishop Havel, "the Rock," the most powerful cleric in history stood before him. The faintly glowing red eyes of a hollow glared out at him through a visor of stone. Sure, a hollow couldn't use the bishop's deadly array of miracles, but it did nothing to diminish the sheer physical might of a man whose idea of armor was an articulated boulder.

The younger cleric stepped back from the stairs and well out of the range of the man-sized dragon's tooth that Havel used as a club. He raised his talisman and hurled a bolt at the hollow, but it simply raised the slab of stone that served as a shield and blocked it. Like this, it would be difficult to even enter the tower.

"Stop. Andre time."

Lex took a few steps back, then sprinted at the stone guardian blocking the door. At the last moment, he jumped and delivered a flying kick with both feet. Unfortunately, this did nothing but hurt his feet and cause him to collapse on the stairs. Havel slung the shield on his back and drew up the dragon tooth with both hands to splatter Lex all over the stairs. Lex quickly wrapped himself around the bishop's ankles.

"This hand of mine glows with an awesome power! Its-! Ahh, forget it."

He unleashed his point-blank lightning as the greatclub exploded the stairs behind him. He winced as the shrapnel cut into his back, but at least he was safe. So he thought for a moment, before the indestructible monster took a step backward, forcing him to release his grip and roll away. Havel stomped toward him like an earthquake and swung the dragon tooth for another killing blow. Lex dodged to the side and took a good, hard look at the solid stone.

"I have no idea where to even aim for a backstab here."

He sighed and drew up another bolt, jabbing it at the living mountain before the hollow could turn to face him once more. Thinking quickly, Lex backpedaled up the stairs and fired again. This time, Havel blocked it and thundered after him. As he reached the top of the stairs, he jumped off, swearing at the pain in his shoulder as he rolled through the landing. Havel followed immediately, but the weight of his armor was too much.

The monster's rotten legs snapped like twigs beneath him, and the once-invincible bishop fell to his knees before dissolving into souls. Lex picked up the stone ring that was all that remained of him.

"Yeah! Time to wear reasonable armor!"

He left the tower and descended the Basin to the lake. There, Beatrice was examining a ring of her own.

"You won't believe the shit that washed up on the beach after I killed that hydra."

"Dusk Crown Ring. Gold band, green stone. Increases the number of times you can cast but halves your health. Like you needed to be any more minmaxed. Wait. Actually, you're about to get even worse."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm a prophet, remember? I know the Fate of the Undead like the back of my hand."

"That's horseshit," Beatrice said, hands on her hips. "You didn't use tea leaves or lamb bones or anything, and the gods haven't been in Lordran for a hell of a long time."

"There's actually one still in Anor Londo, but that's beside the point. All that matters is that I know things. I know everything. Well, everything that's directly related to the Fate of the Undead."

Beatrice clicked her tongue and scowled.

"Don't get smart with me, kid. Fine. I'll accept your bullshit, but you better get me Seath's sorceries. There'll be hell to pay if I don't."

Lex rolled his eyes and stuffed an entire waterlogged knight's corpse into his pack before continuing back into the massive cave behind the hydra. While his Rusted Iron Ring kept him from slowing in the knee-deep water, Beatrice was not so lucky and plodded along at a miserable pace, all the while complaining about the water seeping up her gown. Eventually, they saw the end of it. There was another golden crystal golem waiting for them.

"The hell with it! I'm sitting this one out!" Beatrice said, crossing her arms.

Lex shrugged and hurled a bolt at the golem as they walked toward one another. The golem leapt high into the air and came crashing down where Lex had been standing, but now he was behind it, another bolt in hand. It roared in inchoate fury and formed a long chain of crystals on its arm as it spun around to strike him, but it was simply too slow. He slammed his electrified palm on its back, and it lost coherency, falling to pieces and revealing its captive.

She was pale, with delicate features. Her hair was braided into a circlet and tied into a bun in back, and feathered wing decorations emerged from behind her ears. Like Beatrice, her courtly gown trailed into the water and was getting soaked. As soon as she realized what had happened, she bowed deeply.

"So, it is thou who rescueth me? Most graciuous. I am deeply obliged. I am Dusk of Oolacile. I cometh from an age long before thine… I can not stay here for long.

So, before I disappear, allow me to ask one thing. My home, Oolacile, is the home of ancient sorceries. My hope is to pass this profound knowledge to thee, with thine approval. Would this be of assistance to thee?"

"Mine!" Beatrice screamed, sloshing through the water to where Lex and Dusk were standing. "Beatrice, the greatest sorcerer of this era! Nice to meet you!"

"That's Logan, actually."

"Shut up!"

Dusk drew back fearfully. Lex interposed himself between the witch and the princess.

"Who art-?"

"Yeah, so, uh, this is my… traveling companion… I guess?" he said, blocking her every time she tried to get past him. "I'm not a sorcerer myself, but I'd appreciate it if you could teach her instead. Mainly because it might get her to calm down."

"I-if that is thine desire. I shalt engrave my signature. If you art in need, pray summon me from my signature. It seems that my time is done. May the great flame guide thee."

With that, she faded into nothingness, as if a phantom.

"Want to see the really depressing part?" Lex said.

He walked a short distance and pulled a corpse out of the turgid water. It was Dusk, dead but preserved by the stagnant lake.

"Holy-!"

Lex dropped her into the water from shock.

"I thought she'd be more… indistinguishable by now."

He picked up the corpse again hesitantly and looked at it. Sure enough, it was Dusk. She looked older, her face more worn, but she had died long before middle age.

"Uh, right, so you're going to want to take her crown. The, uh, wing things on her head."

"Why the hell would-?"

"Bonus sorcery damage."

"Good enough."

She took the headset and stuck it on top of her hat. Lex looked around awkwardly and then decided to leave the body where it was for the time being. Putting it in his bag might have preserved it equally well, but that would have been by far the most awkward thing he was carrying.

"Head back down to the shore. Her summon sign will be somewhere over there, by that rock. I'm going to try to grab something else while we're here. If I'm not back by the time you're done, I died and am probably crying over by the bonfire."

Beatrice snorted and started wading back toward shore. Lex instead approached the waterfall. There was an absurdly long old wooden ladder leading up the side. He sighed and made his way to the top, crossed a rickety wooden bridge, hugged a stone bridge support where the cliffside path had given way, grabbed a soul clump, and climbed another moldy wooden ladder.

DARKROOT GARDEN

At the top, he passed through a crevice and entered the main Garden once more. As he glanced about, more angry shrubberies were pulling themselves out of the ground. Rather than deal with them, however, he simply sprinted ahead, following a line of trees to his left. As he ran, he fumbled through the junk in his bag and removed a charred old bone, gripping it tightly. Soon, he approached the cliffside, and several more plant creatures rose to block his path. He juked to the left, some half-dozen angry vegetables following him.

Eventually, he did reach the cliff and paused to catch his breath as the plants approached. They raised their arms and whipped vines at him, but he rolled clear and began to sprint back the way he'd came. After several seconds, he found himself running out of cliffside, but his goal was in sight. He slid over to the corpse and violently shoved the armored body into his bag. He flipped the cover back on and snapped the bone in his hand just as the creatures caught up to him.

"Ha! Almsivi Intervention!"

He vanished into smoke, only to reappear at the bonfire moments later.

"You know, in retrospect, picking the Tribunal would have been way cooler than Slaanesh. I mean, 'reach heaven by violence' is pretty much the literal description of the first part of the game. I could have been the Nerevarine. I could have been the Nerevarine!"

After he stopped pouting, the cleric left the cave and made his way back toward the lake. His return to the bonfire hadn't respawned the golems like it would have in the game, but there was no sign of either of Beatrice or Dusk. Abruptly, the branch of a tree whipped forward and hit him in the face. The illusion broke, and Beatrice stood there cackling.


	13. Good thing Ratbros don't exist yet

UNDEAD BURG

"And that's why this psychopath will be joining us," Lex said, concluding an abridged and much less embarrassing rendition of his adventures with Beatrice.

Exhausted from their respective fights, the four had backtracked to the Burg bonfire, where each pair explained what had occurred during the split. The men sat in a circle around the fire while Beatrice leaned against the far wall. The knights had taken the opportunity to remove their helmets. Siegmeyer, they now saw, looked just as he sounded. He was middle-aged and had put on weight as his lifestyle grew more sedentary.

Even beneath the flab and rough stubble from days of travel, he had a heroic face with a square jaw and a flat nose. His hair, however, was thick and in need of cutting like Lex's, though it was totally black where the cleric's had a tinge of brown. Beatrice, her wide-brimmed hat put aside, looked "like an 80s rock star," according to Lex. Her short hair was a bright peachy color and was feathered despite the setting giving no other indication of hair-cutting prowess. However, this minor strangeness was immediately set aside so that he could consider why her eyes were wholly white.

"I mean no offense," Oscar said, turning to her and then the cleric, "but Lex, this is a terrible idea. The Witch-Goddess is already out for our blood. We don't know if she could use Beatrice to track us. Not that I'm accusing her. It could occur without her knowledge."

"True, but at the same time, we have no idea exactly how powerful the gods are and if they have portfolio senses anyway. Even if Velka can spy on us, I think we're better off with her backing us up. She's completely overpowered and could make getting through this without dying a real possibility. Even if she betrays us for Velka, we'll have a better idea of her powers and could retaliate more easily," Lex said, scratching his chin.

"Piss off," Beatrice grumbled. "The gods can go to hell. I'm ditching you saps as soon as Big Ass figures out Seath's shit."

"You know, I wonder if hell is just a romanticized rendition of Izalith-"

"You've got the attention span of a fly, don't you, kid?"

"Now, now," Siegmeyer interrupted. "We are all fellow adventurers here. There's no reason to be rude. We still have to ring the second Bell, don't we? Let's stick together for now. Splitting up might be the fastest means of solving Sen's puzzles, so we can say our farewells there."

Oscar rubbed his lip, thinking.

"I guess that-" he started.

"We might be stuck together a little longer than that. Wait. A lot longer than that. Gwyn sealed the Regal Archives before he departed to Link the Flame. Beatrice could split off to join Logan when we meet him in the Fortress, but neither of them will be able to enter until someone uses the Lordvessel to release the seal."

Oscar sighed.

"Fine. The witch can do as she pleases. Continuing this discussion is pointless. Lex, what do we have to do to ring the next Bell?"

Lex started counting on his fingers.

"Go down into the sewers. Save a pyromancer from cannibals. Kill a _really_ big rat. Kill another Channeler. Run away from death-breathing frogs. Defeat the Knight of Thorns."

Oscar's eyes opened wide, and Siegmeyer grimaced as Lex said the name.

"Meet the mysterious merchant Domhnall of Zena. Kill the mutated remnants of a true dragon. Side task: cut off its tail before killing it. Addendum: praise the sun with Solaire. After that, we'll approach Blighttown.

As promised, Oscar, I'll reveal that secret then. From there, we'll try to get through to the swamp with the least amount of effort. We'll defeat another cannibal in the swamp and then head back up by another path in order to recover a Fire Keeper's soul. With that done, we'll need to kill a lot of giant leeches for titanite. The actual guardian of the Bell is easy enough – it's getting down there in the first place that's a pain."

"Sounds good," Oscar said curtly, putting his helmet on quickly to hide that he was sulking.

"So this is what it is like to adventure with a prophet. What a luxury to have such complete knowledge beforehand!" Siegmeyer said, laughing as he put his helmet on as well.

Beatrice said nothing but set her hat-cum-Crown of Dusk back on her head and started blasting the hollows immediately in front of the bonfire. Nothing seemed to slow her pace as she blasted hollow after hollow. The men rushed to get to their feet and chase after her, but she was moving so quickly that didn't catch up until she was descending the stairs until the aqueduct.

"Don't run off like that!" Oscar scolded.

"What's that? I thought you were the one who was giving me shit about hanging around at all?"

He grumbled. Siegmeyer put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let it go, Oscar. Sometimes we knights must choose to be the bigger person."

He slapped his belly.

"Though sometimes we don't choose the bigger person!"

The portly knight laughed at his own joke and continued after the witch while Oscar stood and held his breath to calm down. Eventually, they arrived at the locked door, and Oscar withdrew the key the Capra Demon had dropped.

THE DEPTHS

"Forward and back! Feral hollows!" Lex shouted as they descended the stairs

Siegmeyer continued ahead and hacked the first one in two while Oscar spun about and killed the second one and grabbed the strong soul behind it. A soul arrow whizzed above Siegmeyer's head and got the one in the back as it charged him.

"Woo! Teamwork!" Lex cheered, having done nothing.

The next room was a mess hall of some sort, with feral hollows milling about a number of wooden benches.

"Beatrice, unleash hell!"

"Kid. No."

She hit him on the back of the head with her staff. Nevertheless, she did as he said, drawing the staff back and throwing it forward to fire off a giant orb of soul energy. It spun forward, casting off smaller bursts of energy as it hurtled into the center of the room. By the time it had dissipated, the hollows were dead and the tables were reduced to splinters. Lex's jaw dropped.

"What? No. Beatrice, that spell doesn't even exist yet."

"Maybe the sorcerers of this era are just shit at it."

"Beatrice. Beatrice. What? No. What?"

He took a deep breath.

"I'm not saying that sorceries haven't ever been lost. Dusk has already proved that it happens. What I'm saying is that since that Soul Vortex was preserved only in the Undead Crypt, and there's not a whole lot of sorcery going on in Nito's domain in the present, it must have been invented later – probably by the Leydia witches. Unless Pinwheel was hoarding it."

"What if I tell old bonesy the secret now that you've told me he's supposed to have it? You're shit at this prediction gig, kid."

"Do we have time for this?" Oscar interrupted.

"Ehhh," Lex sighed. "Everything should be running on an event-based schedule rather than a time-based one because time is so messed up here. But you're right – let's go ahead and move on. I'm sure Laurentius doesn't appreciate being trapped longer than he has to just because we decided to spend an hour arguing about temporal paradox."

The cleric led the others to a short ledge, and they hopped down to the floor below.

"Careful! It's a bit narrow for this fight. Also, look up."

He pointed toward the ceiling. Standing on a small platform designed for these sorts of ambushes was a horrifying human thing. It was the size of Andre, but if his impressive physique was also covered in an armor-like layer of fat. It wore simple trousers and boots covered by a butcher's apron. Its face was hidden by a rough sack, and the glowing red eyes of a hollow peered out at them.

It fell at them, swinging a cleaver as large as it was. Oscar pushed through the others and tried to parry, but his shield was forced back by a twisting of the blade. He shouted as he was forced back by the butcher's rising swing, sparks lighting off the floor as the cleaver scraped the cobblestone.

"Oscar, duck!" Siegmeyer bellowed as he swung his zweihander overhead.

The Astoran jerked to the side as the blade came down, eating into the hollow's collarbone with a spurt of blood. Taking advantage of the distraction, he jabbed his own sword under its ribs. As the hollow roared, Lex circled around and jabbed his claymore down between its shoulder blades. The butcher gave a guttural cry as it dissolved into souls.

"Teamwork," Beatrice said, yawning.

"Is that going to be the joke now?" Lex complained.

She shrugged, so he turned around and climbed the short steps to the storage room. There were barrels full of various cooking supplied and preserved meats, including whole human corpses who had suffered different circumstances of death. One body, however, was still alive. As the prophet had said, it was a pyromancer of the Great Swamp, looking just as rough as they were stereotyped, with his sparse beard and matted wavy hair.

"You! Yes, you! Here, over here! Please! You must help me! She'll have me for lunch! You're my only hope. Oh, please…"

Oscar, being the only one in the group with a reasonably-sized cutting implement, moved through the barrels and cut the pyromancer's ropes. He climbed out of the barrel sheepishly and pulled his hood over his head.

"Th-thank you. I would have been her supper without you. Being eaten alive! I shudder to think… Thank you, thank you dearly. I am Laurentius, of the Great Swamp. I will not forget my debt to you."

He bowed deeply.

"I will not interrupt your travels. You are all, clearly, very talented. If you pass by the Shrine again, I might be able to, uh, repay you in some small manner. Goodbye… for now."

He headed out of the storeroom and climbed up onto the wreckage of the mess hall.

"How very polite… for a pyromancer," Oscar mused.

"Don't be like that, Oscar! He was a pleasant enough fellow!" Siegmeyer said, browsing through the barrels for something to eat that wasn't human or dog.

"I can't believe this era still has that dumbass fear of pyromancy," Beatrice added. "Those failures are more likely to light themselves on fire than anything else."

"Hey! Pyromancy was the only way to get reliable area of effect spells before you went and stole sorcery from the future."

The witch waved her staff in Lex's face.

"We're not starting this shit again, kid. Where next?"

"Since I'm assuming we want to go through as little sewer water as possible, let's climb back up and take the stairs down to the 'kitchen.' Two dogs and another butcher. We need to get the smithing ember in the back, but watch out for the garbage chute. Siegmeyer, if you think you can handle another stubborn door, then we can avoid going down there deliberately."

The old knight nodded, so they climbed into the ruined mess hall and took the stairs down to the kitchen. Beatrice led, blasting the hollowed dog around the corner before it could react. Taking advantage of her superior range again, she also vaporized the one on the far side of the room.

"All right! When the butcher comes at us-!"

Before Lex could finish his battle plan, Beatrice blew its head off with a soul spear. The cleric sighed and walked across the room alone to retrieve the large ember, muttering something about losing a "sack drop." With the ember secured in Lex's mysteriously endless bag, they hopped back down to the lower walkway and descended into the main body of the sewers.

"Eyes up, Beatrice," he said, motioning with his head.

"Holy shit!"

"Well, aside from the 'holy,' you're probably right."

Stuck to the ceiling was a living mass of the various waste products that filled the sewers of Lordran. Even fragments of weapons and human bones jutted out of it as it gibbered. The witch blasted it out of disgust, and Lex grabbed the strong soul from the corpse directly underneath it.

"Feral hollow going to rush us. You're up, only-man-with-a-shield."

Oscar took point. A torch-wielding hollow charged at him as he rounded the corner into the next room, but he forwent defense and simply sliced its throat before it could set his tunic alight.

"Beatrice again."

They entered a long hallway, and the entire ceiling was covered in the living ooze. A lone torch hollow stood at the far end of the room in front of a heavily-reinforced wooden door. The witch didn't want to look at the horrifying mess any longer than she had to, so she fired another soul vortex and was done with it. The group was careful to stay in the center of the hallway after that. The water running across the floor had swept the path clean, but the ceiling and walls were splattered by the remnants of the slimes cast across the room by the vortex.

"So this is the door?" Siegmeyer said as they approached.

"Nah. The next one. The key for this one is down the hall."

They passed into the next room. On the floor below, separated by a bars that looked much too thin, was a giant rat. Now, the Undead curse did allow rats to grow much larger than they would naturally. Oscar had fought giant rats the size of large dogs on his way to the Burg. This one was nearly as large as the drake, though it lacked the impressive wingspan.

At this size, its corpulent, rotting flesh was all the more plainly visible. One eye was foamed over, and the other had a battleaxe still hanging in the socket amidst the decaying remains of the eye.

"This is what you meant by 'giant rat'?" Oscar said, trying not to look directly at it.

Lex had been careful not to so much as glance in its direction.

"Yeah, actually, if Siegmeyer can handle the door, we won't need to kill it. I mean, it would probably be a good thing to do in general, but I don't really want to touch it."

"Nope!" Beatrice said, quite pale. "Sending it straight to hell!"

She stuck her staff out through the bars and focused on it. Once more, the sheer concentration of the energy she was channeling became visible in the air. The head of the staff gleamed, and she fired off a soul geyser, the spears shredding the rat and causing it to explode into pus and gore. The flash had attracted Lex's attention, but now he was frowning.

"Beatrice. Beatrice. You did it again. On the plus side, with this future spell, I can at least tell you that your descendants will be the rulers of the kingdom of Drangleic. Pass this down to Duke Aldia: for the love of all the gods, shut up, I don't care."

"Wow. You just described how I feel about your future sight. Amazing."

They continued into the next hallway. Directly across from them, were a large number of more usual giant rats.

"Rats! Rats! Rats! Why did I have to come to the sewer?"

Beatrice was legitimately screaming now. She fired a soul vortex at the group of rats, vaporizing them and stomped down the walkway. She blasted a rat in front of her, and before Lex could stop her, she walked into a trap. Another rat burst out of a crate on the opposite side of the walkway and bit into her thigh. She shrieked and vaporized it before falling against the wall. Her breathing was heavy, and she pointed her staff around defensively.

"I'm Undead. I'm Undead. I'm Undead. I'm Undead. I'm Undead."

"Beatrice, what is it?"

Before Oscar or Lex could even begin to react, Siegmeyer was beside her, close but not too close. Abruptly, she snapped out of it.

"I was being careful in case there were more of them. The shit does it look like, fatty?"

"I have a daughter your age, you know. When she's hiding-"

"Shut the hell up and let's get moving," she said, rising. "Kid, what's next?"

Lex glanced at Siegmeyer, who shook his head.

"Give me a second."

He sprinted down the stairs and around the corner. There was the sound of a half dozen rats squealing and then nothing. He came back with a bloody sword and a key in his hand. He held it out for the witch to take.

"Look, Beatrice, there are going to be a lot more rats until we get through here. If you go back to the door we just passed, you can wait at the bonfire until we're done here."

"Piss off, kid! I'm not some fair maiden who's afraid of mice!"

"I didn't say that, but you definitely aren't in your right mind for whatever reason. I won't dig-"

She grabbed his collar.

"Shut. Up. What's. Next?"

Lex looked her in the eye for a few moments.

"Oscar. You and me. Siegmeyer, take Beatrice back to the room we saw the bus-sized rat. There's a ladder under some crates. Go down there and see if you can't get the door open."

The witch let him go. He and Oscar walked back down the stairs and doubled back into a tunnel leading under the above walkway. Midway through, Lex collected a strong soul.

"I told you bringing her was a bad idea," Oscar said.

"You didn't predict anything like that. You just thought she'd turn on us."

"You didn't predict that either, Prophet Lex. More people are going to start doubting your powers if you miss something so important."

"The gods work in mysterious ways. I'll be fine."

Oscar grumbled.

"What are we up against?"

"Some of the bigger but not huge giant rats and a Channeler. We want to rush him before he can buff the rats, even if it means eating a few attacks. I'll bolt him while you close the distance. With him out of the way, the rats will be caught between us."

Lex turned the corner and passed through the fog wall. He was standing on a small platform overlooking a long balcony. The balcony itself overlooked a vast room full of broken columns. Daylight shone in through immense holes in the wall and ceiling on the far side, and beneath them, the floor had given way to an inestimable drop. The strangest part was that each wall looked like the _exterior_ of a fortress.

Directly ahead, on the balcony itself, was the Channeler and the giant rats. Lex drew up his talisman, and Oscar broke into a run. The bolt sailed overhead and struck the sorcerer, stunning him just long enough for the knight to make a low stroke, hacking a fatal gash into his shoulder. The rats screeched and ran up onto the platform, but Lex was waiting for them. With a single swing of his massive sword, he hacked through all of them, and they collapsed in a heap.

"Hey Oscar, guess what."

The knight sighed again.

"What?"

"The Channeler could have buffed that mutant dragon I mentioned while we were fighting it. But first! We fight the infamous Knight of Thorns!"

"…great…"


	14. A thorny situation

They'd all gathered at the bonfire to regroup and recharge Beatrice's magic. Siegmeyer had no trouble opening the door. "Door does not open from this side" meant little in the face of his cyclopean strength. This meant that the group could completely avoid the region of the sewers filled with basilisks, which was great considering that Lex and developed a real-world aversion to frogs after his first playthrough. After the incident with the Black Knight, he didn't want to have another breakdown.

Especially not since Beatrice was already having problems with the rats for some reason. Worse, since Oswald was dead, they had no source of purging stones if any of them were cursed by the basilisks' breath. They'd be forced to detour through New Londo to reach Ingward and his restorative magic. While it was certainly possible to get through to the last Sealer, it would be rather harrowing at this level – he'd not even put points into Vitality yet. And of course, Beatrice had her history of attacking ghosts without using a transient curse.

Still, he had to risk at least one basilisk, probably. Hopefully no more.

"So you're telling me that the Knight of Thorns is some sort of Undead bogeyman to you?"

"The Darkwraiths don't range very far from Lordran," Oscar said. "They've attacked nearby countries many times. The attacks grow worse as the curse spreads. These attacks could be how they gain new members. The curse makes people desperate. Willing to do anything for power."

Siegmeyer nodded.

"Catarina has not had much trouble with the curse. From what I've been told, I am the first knight to fall. But even we have heard of Kirk. Worse than a murderer, they say. A fiend who takes pleasure in making his victims suffer before he drains them of their humanity."

"Right, so, if we take a certain passage down here, he will try to ambush us and take our humanity. Since I know where his phantom will appear, we could avoid him entirely."

"Why wouldn't we?" Siegmeyer asked.

"A counter-ambush," Oscar said distantly, already thinking of plans.

"Sort of. We _are_ going to ambush him, but I need all of you to _not_ hurt him."

"What?!" Siegmeyer and Oscar said at once.

"I need him to deliver a message. To be honest, I don't know even as much about him as you do. What I do know is what actions he is fated to perform as part of the Fate of the Undead. Specifically, I know where his ultimate allegiance lies. If my plan works, we'll have a much easier time in completing our quest."

"Mmm. I don't know if I like the sound of a plan that depends on such a villain."

"Lex," Oscar said sternly, looking him in the eye, "you said no more secrets. What, exactly, is this plan, and how will it make things easier?"

"Right, sorry. First: Kirk isn't a Darkwraith. Maybe he was before, but he isn't now."

Siegmeyer tried to speak but stumbled over the words from shock. Oscar was a little more articulate.

"Kirk is one of the most – if not the most – infamous Darkwraith. You say he isn't one?"

"Sometimes the tools the Darkwraiths use to invade other worlds get damaged or wear out. Even in their broken state, they can usually be used for one last invasion. Worse, their own protections are damaged as well, so those who aren't Darkwraiths can use them."

"Invade other worlds?"

"Appear as hostile black-slash-red phantoms, I mean."

Oscar nodded slowly.

"It's nearly risk-free for them, and nets them humanity if they murder someone, so the unscrupulous try to get hold of these 'cracked red eye orbs' when they can. Still, the unbroken orbs can only be created by the Darkwraiths' master, so it can be hard to collect a large number of the broken ones unless a Darkwraith is giving them out to spread chaos. A true Darkwraith with an unbroken orb can invade ceaselessly until it breaks or a defeat drives them hollow."

"We must stop this nefarious 'master' as soon as we are able!" Siegmeyer cried, rising with fury.

"We've already changed fate, but in the countless paths I have foreseen, no Undead has been able to harm him. If we go after Darkstalker Kaathe, we'll need a solid plan. For now, though, Kirk is our concern."

"Oh, indeed. I am terribly sorry. Please continue," he said, sitting back down.

"So you can see, if Kirk was a true Darkwraith, he'd be much more terrifying. Whether he has broken that dark Covenant or never swore to it to begin with, he has sworn to another. He is a Chaos Servant."

"I can see that he's less dangerous to the world if he's not a Darkwraith," Oscar said, crossing his arms. "How does serving the demons make him less dangerous to us?"

"Easy. At least one of us – probably me – is going to become a Chaos Servant as well.

"Wha-!"

"Chill! Okay? They don't serve demons; they serve a witch. One of the seven Daughters. She is deathly ill, so she was turned into a Fire Keeper to keep her alive. The Servants collect humanity – admittedly sometimes through the brutal murder of innocents – to strengthen her fire and ease her pain. She's probably too delirious to even consider where they're getting it from."

Siegmeyer softened a little, but Oscar was unimpressed.

"I fail to see how this helps us."

"Her bonfire is directly beneath the second Bell, and the most trusted Servants may use the Daughters' private path from the fire to the very heart of Lost Izalith. Which is great because the outskirts are full of lava, and there's only one ring in Lordran to protect against that. Trying to share the ring by passing it between us is just asking me to mess up and drop it in the lava somewhere."

Oscar sighed. Siegmeyer started his trademark humming. Eventually, the former spoke.

"This may be a necessary evil. We'll try to capture the Knight of Thorns first and then decide."

"Even if we have to kill Kirk, I'm going to go ahead and join the Covenant while I'm there. There aren't any benefits to staying a Sunbro until we get hold of Gwyn's soul."

"You… you would abandon a divine Covenant because it stops benefiting you?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad, but yeah. It's not like there are any oaths or anything. They're all just like 'hey, join our club, and we'll give you free stuff.' So I'm going to ditch a dead end forbidden cult with a missing patron for a heretical cult with actual benefits and a patron you can't help but feel sorry for."

"I'm sorry, Lex, but this is stupid. You may have divine knowledge of Lordran, but your judgment is awful. Worse than awful. A child would know better than to pity a Chaos demon."

"But Oscar," Siegmeyer interrupted, "aren't you curious as to why these cutthroats would give away their ill-gotten gains? What malady ails this Chaos witch?"

"Ahh. See, that's just it," Lex said, looking Oscar straight in the eye. "Have you heard of blightpus?"

"Of course I have. The blight is nasty, unholy infection that causes the head to bloat until it bursts. The infected become a danger to everyone around them. The cysts burst if the blood flow ever stops, too. The only recourse… is to burn the victims alive…

The gods were be merciful and exiled them. The victims and their caretakers built Blighttown. Whenever new victims were discovered, they were went to Lordran for quarantine."

"Interesting," Lex said, nodding. "Well, you'll be pleased to hear that while the blight is probably the reason why the swamp water is so poisonous that extended contact can kill you, there aren't any blight victims left. I mean, all the hollows down there are horrifying mutants, but none of us will risk getting blighted… Yet another reason I should have been the Nerevarine… But yeah!

When two of the Daughters of Chaos crawled up out of the ruins of Izalith, one took pity on the blight sufferers. Since fire can purge the toxins and the Daughters are currently full of lava, she thought she could maybe suck the blightpus out like a normal poison. Incidentally, sucking out normal poisons is a bad idea anyway, but you see where this is going. She succeeded but is now blind, lame, and delirious. As a Fire Keeper, she is supposed to be immortal, but every moment of her life, she lives in fear of succumbing to the poison."

Oscar stared into the bonfire, ashamed of his previous comments. Siegmeyer swallowed hard. Beatrice merely rolled her eyes. After a while, Siegmeyer broke the silence.

"This knight of Catarina would consider it an honor to serve beside you, Prophet Lex. I will not join in such brigandry, of course, but I can spare some humanity for such a selfless heroine."

"I… may have been too harsh. I didn't know. I can't promise that I'll join you… but I will reserve judgment until I have met the witch myself."

Lex turned to Beatrice and stared. After a moment, Oscar looked at her too.

"Sob stories are a dime a dozen. I'm not giving my hard-earned humanity to some vapid bitch who doesn't realize that deadly poison is deadly."

"Beatrice!" Siegmeyer scolded. "That was uncalled for! You don't need to agree, but don't speak ill of someone who would sacrifice her own well-being for the sake of others!"

"Stop trying to act like my pops, fatass. He was a total dick, so you're not convincing at all."

Siegmeyer tried to speak, but Beatrice kept on.

"Shitty prophet, where does the Knight of Pricks show up? Let's get this charity crap on the road so we can ring that stupid Bell."

Lex sighed.

"All right, keep your hat on. Oscar, Siegmeyer, let's go. The faster we get this done, the sooner we can help the Chaos witch, whose name is incidentally concealed from me. Money says it starts with 'Quel-,' though."

They rose and headed through the long tunnel leading away from the bonfire. A feral hollow, resurrected by the bonfire, blocked their path, but Beatrice blasted it before it noticed even Siegmeyer's clanking footsteps. They entered the next room and descended a ladder that had been previously concealed by a number of boxes. Beyond the door that Siegmeyer had bent open was a long staircase descending to a lower level. There were a few slimes and giant rats throughout the long room, but they ignored them and continued to another tunnel with walkways on either side.

Beatrice, furious at her earlier incident, wiped them out with a soul vortex before any of the men could react. They continued to a platform linking the walkways.

"Oscar, you're the fastest one among us. I want you to run around the next bend and brutally murder the thing that's there. If it starts spitting stuff, run away as fast as you can."

The elite knight nodded and jogged around the corner. Suddenly, his steps in the shallow water accelerated to a breakneck sprint, and his sword tore into flesh. When he appeared around the corner again, he was practically stomping.

"You! Why didn't you tell me it was a basilisk?!"

"I didn't know if it would mean anything to you, and after that long talk about the Chaos Servants, I felt we'd wasted enough ti-"

A red-black portal had appeared at his feet.

"Everyone, get ready!"

Lex and Siegmeyer stepped to either side and held their long swords at the ready, while Beatrice backed up several paces and raised her staff preemptively. Oscar approached from the front. As the phantom rose from the stone platform, the elite knight held his sword to the invader's throat.

"Hold," he commanded.

The Knight of Thorns stood stock still. Then he didn't. In a flash, he fell backward and kicked out his legs, grabbing Oscar. When his elbows hit the ground, he flexed and flipped the Astoran overhead. Siegmeyer roared as he quickly curved his hammering blow away from his ally. Lex had tried a quick thrust instead, but the invader simply dropped to the stone and rolled under the blade.

The cleric screamed and crumpled as Kirk's armor spikes tore effortlessly through his robes and into his shins. The all-too-real fake Darkwraith glanced backward at a flash of light and rolled the other way just before a soul spear burst against the floor. Siegmeyer swung low, his too-long blade sparking against the stone, but Kirk just thrust his arms down and his hips up and bounced into the air, still spinning as he cleared the sword. He took his feet while facing away from the onion knight, Oscar charging from the other side. In one elegant move, he leaned backward, kicking away the knight in front and bowling over the one in back with a shield bash.

Now, a soul spear and a great lightning spear came at cross angles. He spun on the one foot he had on the ground and hooked Oscar with his spiked sword, using him as a human shield. The elite knight fell to his knees. Soul force billowed out of his helmet. As the last wisp escaped, a tiny black sprite followed, and his body faded away.

"Oh god! Oscar! I- I- k…killed…" Lex whimpered.

"Suck it up, kid! He'll be back in what – thirty seconds?" Beatrice yelled. "We've got bigger problems! Like why the hell you thought we could take this guy!"

Lex was too stunned to answer. Worse, he was too stunned to fight. Seeing this, the Knight of Thorns turned back to Siegmeyer, who had just scrambled to his feet. Before he could react, Kirk clotheslined him into the sewer wall. He followed up with a murderous elbow to the underside of the onion helmet, smashing the knight's head against the wall again and again as it bounced.

"Lex!" Beatrice screamed. "I can't get a clean shot like this! Get in there you shit!"

At last the cleric snapped out of his trance and rushed forward blindly. Kirk parried the flailing swing and dug the flat of his sword into his side. Lex recoiled in pain, tearing himself open without the Knight of Thorns moving a muscle. Behind them, Siegmeyer fell on his face, souls pouring out from under the battered helmet. Terrified, Lex tripped on the slick walkway, and his sword skittered across the stone. Beatrice sighed and saluted.

"He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. I'd prefer to keep my humanity, so I'll be seeing you in a bit, kid!"

Kirk abruptly twisted his body backward, hurling his shield like a discus. The witch was too fast, however, rolling away and around the corner with plenty of time to spare. With that kind of distance, there was no way the Knight of Thorns would be able to catch her, so he turned back to his previous victim.

"Please, Kirk! We didn't mean any harm! We were just trying to be careful!"

Lex scrambled away from the knight but soon found himself against the wall. Unfortunately, his sword had bounced the other direction, so he was even worse off than when he had started.

"Wait! Please! I want to serve the Fair Lady! I know a faster way of harvesting humanity!"

The Knight of Thorns did not falter in his approach, but he did not kill the cleric immediately. He picked Lex up by the collar with his free hand and held his barbed sword to one cheek, delicately grazing it so as to draw a single trickle of blood.

"I'm listening," he said at last, his voice like salt and ash and barbed wire.

"I'm the prophet of-"

Kirk slid his sword along Lex's face, drawing more blood.

"Faster."

"Oolacile!" Lex screamed desperately. "Time travel! Collect it straight from the Abyss!"

Kirk slammed Lex against the wall as he had Siegmeyer.

"This nonsense…"

"The pendant! Manus will come for it! His Want defies time! Please! I can take you there!"

By now, he was crying, and snot was pouring down his face. Kirk let him down.

"I hear no lie. Madness, perhaps. Madness is befitting a Servant. You seem to know of the Fair Lady. Bring all the humanity you have, and we shall speak further."

With that, he threw the sniveling cleric at the wall and drew a black crystal from his belt. He grasped it tightly, and his phantom flickered and faded, leaving Lex alone with his fears in the cold, wet Depths.


	15. Bliiiiiiiiighttooooooooown

When Lex entered the bonfire room, the others jumped. Before either of them realized what was happening, Oscar had his sword to the cleric's neck.

"Lex! Sorry!" the knight said, backing off and sitting down again. "Beatrice said that you were done for, so she made a 'tactical retreat.' Damned cowardly witch…"

"Well fricking excuse me! I'm sorry that commoners have the common sense to avoid dying in the name of some horseshit like honor!"

"Is that what this is all about? Some pent-up grudge against the nobility?"

"Calm down, you two!" Siegmeyer interrupted. "Heavens! Lex has returned alive after facing that fiend, and yet you two put your bickering before his well-being! You should be ashamed of yourselves! I shouldn't even need to tell you, Oscar! And Beatrice, even a mercenary would celebrate the return of a comrade!"

"Hold up there, tubby. When a dead man walks right back into camp, it's usually because he sold us out."

She cocked her head at Lex.

"So what did you tell him?"

The cleric groaned and sat down at the bonfire.

"I told him about a source of infinite humanity that only I could know about."

"Infinite-" Oscar began, dazed.

"Did I ever tell you you were my best friend, kid?" Beatrice said, putting an arm around him. "And best friends share everything. Including their favorite places. Like places with a lot of humanity."

"Lex, that effectively end the curse. Why haven't you mentioned it?"

He scratched his head.

"That won't solve anything, will it? Kindling the bonfires and using humanity to prevent hollowing is a temporary solution, right? And even if the humanity is infinite, it still needs to be harvested by people like us. Even if every knight of Astora went to gather it, there are simply too few to save the whole kingdom."

Oscar furrowed his brow.

"If it's like that, then you're right."

"Besides," Lex continued. "You remember how I said I had received my divine knowledge. The humanity was infinite in my vision because of time constraints. In reality, I think there is a limit. Rather than an infinite spring, it's more like a pool of humanity harvested at the cost of an entire kingdom."

Someone gasped. Lex looked to Oscar and then Siegmeyer, but he was surprised to find it had been Beatrice. She regained her composure quickly.

"Well, let's grab as much as we can before the bastards who did the deed can."

"That's not a problem. It wasn't that the people were killed. When the Primeval Man was accidentally freed, the humanity of the whole kingdom went wild and tore free on their own. You may hear a lot of things about the gods oppressing mankind as this journey continues. Just know that Gwyn at least, I don't think made the decision to do so lightly. And even if all the other gods hate us, Artorias did die for us as much as he did for duty."

"Knight Artorias…" Oscar said, awestruck. "All the stories were true. The most noble knight, first of the Four. Abysswalker, darkhunter. Champion of the gods and protector of man."

"Oh, right." Lex winced as he spoke, "Oscar, I'm… sorry for… killing you."

"Lex, it was an acci-"

"Well, I was planning to give this to you anyway, but consider it an apology now."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a ring. It was dull steel with a circular field beaten out on the front. The image of a howling wolf was engraved into it.

"This is-! Th-the Wolf Ring! Knight Artorias' badge of knighthood! Forged for him at the bequest of Lord Gwyn himself! Where did you get it?"

"Nicked it off a dead graverobber. We can return it later if you want, but I get the feeling Artorias would have preferred it be used to complete his mission."

"I… I will accept this charge."

"Great, because we're going to do that anyway!"

Talking about the world like a game again had helped Lex get away from what had just happened. With the bonfire curing his wounds and fatigue, it was almost like the fight with Kirk was only a failed boss fight rather than a life-threatening encounter. Oscar and Siegmeyer were alive, and all was well.

"First things first, though! We've got got kill that mutant dragon. Now, this is an _actual_ dragon, but it had a rather adverse reaction to the First Flame, so we can kill it easily. Well, as easily as you can kill a reptile the size of a large house, anyway. As a general rule, when we're fighting something this big, we want to get behind it and hack away at its hind legs. Since it's a dragon, we also want to cut its tail off, because dragon tails somehow produce really awesome weapons.

No, really, I don't know how it works. Side note for this particular dragon: if he's vertical, he won't be able to reach you if you back up, while if he's horizontal, he won't be able to reach you if you. Don't touch the yellow stuff. Other than that, not much to worry about. Easier than the Gargoyles."

"If you say so," Oscar said.

"When I left home, I never would have imagined that I would get a chance to slay a dragon. If my Lin could see me now…" Siegmeyer added, dreamily.

"'Knighthood's highest calling,' to quote Hawkeye Gough."

"They have the old stories in Luthor?" Oscar asked.

"Better. I have foreseen speaking with Gough and Ciaran. Ornstein says nothing, the prick."

"We can talk about a bunch of dead guys anytime," Beatrice interrupted. "Let's get back to the dragon-slaying so I can ditch you shits and rob Seath blind."

"He's already blind."

"Shut. Up."

With the conversation forcibly concluded, Lex led the group back down to the long room two or three storeys below. As they'd come to expect, Beatrice started blasting the rats and the slimes before the others could react, so they simply continued while she vaporized everything that moved. They walked up a staircase now and found themselves upon battlements overlooking the vast stone courtyard below. Turning around immediately, the walkway led to a set of stairs and a lower balcony. As with the gargoyles, Solaire's golden summon sign glimmered beneath the layer of grime coating the floor.

Not wanting to touch whatever the slime might be, Lex traced the sign with his foot instead. After a moment, the phantom knight rose from the ooze, making the sacred gesture of sunrise.

"Oh! Well this is quite a group. It's wonderful that you're making so many friends, Oscar."

"Captain!" Oscar cried, stepping forward and embracing his fellow knight of Astora. "It's good to see you again! If only you had been with us earlier… we were given a sound defeat by the Knight of Thorns. I'm sure you wouldn't have had any trouble."

Solaire laughed heartily.

"I wouldn't say that! He gave me quite the beating in my own world! I warned you to keep your shield up and not be too aggressive. I triumphed only through patience and caution."

He let himself out of the bear hug and looked at the others.

"Prophet Lex, it is good to see you again. I trust your errand went well?"

The cleric bobbed his head left and right.

"Well, I didn't go hollow."

"I am glad to see that. Knight Siegmeyer, has Oscar given you any trouble since the bout with the Gargoyles?"

"Of course not! Why, he has come to my aid on plenty of occasions!"

"Well, then. Maybe he's learning from example. My lady, I'm afraid we have not been acquainted."

"Don't give me any of that 'lady' shit. Beatrice. Rogue witch. Dragon School can kiss my ass."

"A pleasure. I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Beyond lies a terrible foe, but I am certain that we will overcome it together. Oscar, if you would lead us…"

The elite knight nodded and descended the last staircase, pushing through the fog. The courtyard was more or less barren. There was a corpse at the far end, the broken columns at regular intervals, and pools of standing water that had fallen from above, but that was it. In the distance, where the floor gave way and the water above fell into nothingness, he saw what seemed to be a crocodile lying in wait. Solaire entered next and placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder.

"Steady. Here it comes."

The floor creaked as the stones on the edge peeled off under the weight of two colossal clawed hands. The crocodile's head rose into the air, higher and higher. Fangs the size of swords ran along its thick neck, trailing down to the creature's belly where they were the size of men. Another pair of hands crushed rock as they pulled the beast up, but there was still more to come. Four wings crowned its back like the legendary eternal dragons, but the monstrosity had none of their nobility.

Six arms with too-long fingers suspended two torsos too bloated for the shriveled wings to carry. A shrunken head with no lower jaw led to an open mouth seated directly on a stomach, acid pouring through teeth and onto stone. Its second torso could only be a second stomach to fill with its insatiable appetite. A tail as broad as a great tree and longer than many such thrashed about as it reared up and balanced one belly upon the other. Row upon row of vertical teeth on either flank flagellated and dripped with saliva.

"Holy shit!" Beatrice said, about to fall over laughing. "We're fighting a giant pu-"

"Siegmeyer, with me!" Lex shouted, pointing to the back. "Solaire, Oscar, keep it busy! Make sure it doesn't grab you! Beatrice, just do whatever!"

Despite the grandness of the entrance, the same could not be said of the fight itself. The creature, which was to dragons what hollows were to humans, was hardly a challenge for one experienced adventurer, much less five. So mad with hunger, it focused only on the food directly in front of it and relentlessly but futilely battered at the knights' shields. In back, Lex and Siegmeyer's oversized swords quickly hacked through scales stretched wide by fat, and the tail soon fell away, shriveling and petrifying into the form of a massive stone axe. Eventually, Beatrice finished some long ritual, and a massive array of magic projectiles fell upon it, destroying it inch by inch.

When the souls cleared, nothing but the axe remained of what had once been a proud member of the race of dragons. Solaire gave a final solar salute as his phantom vanished to aid a Chosen Undead in another world.

"Told you it was easy," Lex said, stretching his arms to wring out the fatigue. "The Gaping Dragon was a total has-been. Seath is of course, a mutant and a cripple. The only real dragon-slaying to be done is Kalameet in Oolacile."

He stuffed the corpse of the dead adventurer in his bag along with the key to Blighttown that the dragon had swallowed but been unable to digest.

"So Blighttown is next, may the gods have mercy on our souls. Seriously. Biggest pain in the ass in Lordran. Wait, I take that back. Bed of Chaos is the biggest pain in the ass in Lordran, but Blighttown is a close second, and it doesn't help that they're related."

"The Bed of Chaos!" Siegmeyer cried. "You mean to do battle with the mother of demons as well?"

"Eventually," Lex said, shrugging. "But that's a long time from now."

They ascended three storeys and then descended one to return to the long room.

"So Oscar," Lex said quietly. "A promise is a promise. I will reveal the secret I was keeping from you, but you must promise that you will not kill Lautrec."

"That is… not a vow I think I can keep. But I will try."

"Siegmeyer," the cleric continued, "I want you to go with him for backup. The Bell is important, but Blighttown is more of an environmental hazard. I could handle the guardian on my own if I needed to."

"Mmmm. I hesitate to leave you and Beatrice to the dangers of that place, but if you insist, I would be honored to help Oscar in his task."

"Right. So, Oscar, the crime that Lautrec is guilty of… is that he will kill Anastacia."

"You… bastard!"

Oscar shoved Lex into the water and took off as fast as his legs could carry him. Siegmeyer, caught off guard, did his best to run after him. Beatrice was left with the cleric. She didn't help him up.

"What the hell was that about?"

"An obviously evil knight that I deliberately set free is about to murder a helpless Fire Keeper from his homeland. I didn't tell him until now because I didn't want to disrupt the knight's timeline. We can bring the Fire Keeper back to life, but the information we could get from the knight could be a vital missing link in my foresight."

"Yeah, you are kind of a bastard, then. Smart move, though."

They continued to the door.

"Aye, siwmae!" a voice called.

"Not now, Domhnall. I'll buy stuff from you when you relocate to Firelink."

The pair approached a massive rusted gate. The heavy key turned in the lock, and Lex pushed the doors open.

BLIGHTTOWN

Below was a massive pit, and a cold wind blew upward. They walked around to an old iron ladder. Midway down, it turned to wood, and they set foot on moldy old scaffolding. Below and ahead of them was a massive hollow, bloated with disease and poison.

"Okay, so we're skipping all of this crap because I don't have the patience for it."

Lex took a flying leap off of the scaffolding toward the hollow. It swung an uprooted tree trunk at him, but he rolled under it and kept running across the creaking wooden planks. Two more obese monsters swung at him, but he charged through without a care. Two horrifying mutants with long faces and huge teeth came at him next, but he rolled between them and ran all the faster. Eventually, the platform came to an end, and he soared through the air, landing on a platform some distance away.

As he knelt to steal a katana from a corpse, Beatrice dropped down beside him.

"That was boring as shit _and_ life-threatening! Wow, kid! You're a double-whammy!"

"Better than tedious and life-threatening," Lex said, shrugging. He dropped down to a lower platform and moved onto a stone bridge. There was a bonfire in the center, which he activated, but he kept moving.

"Get the dogs."

He rounded a stone pillar to another bridge and swung hard to kill a mutant. As he did so, a pair of small, red, hairless dogs rushed toward him. Beatrice spat in disgust but blasted them. Lex continued around the next corner, taking out a pair of mutants before they could reach him. Unimpeded, he continued along the path until it ended, descending one ladder and then another.

He killed two mutants – one armed with a human corpse – as he turned about. Down a ramp was another one of the bloated hollows. Two lightning spears slew it before it could come anywhere close to him. Turning around, he walked some distance along a path and came upon a massive creature of some sort. It had a hugely bulbous main body, with tentacles flailing at the front. It was anchored into the stone wall with four massively powerful talons.

"You want it or should I?" Lex asked as Beatrice approached.

"Ew. Ew. I don't even want to touch it indirectly."

The cleric shrugged and blasted it with lightning. Once its corpse had fallen into the darkness below, he passed where it had been anchored and retrieved a scroll from a dead body.

"Mine!" Beatrice said, her fingers grabbing anxiously.

"It's pyromancy."

"Well screw that."

They returned the way they had come and descended the ramp, entering a cave. After quickly dispatching a mutant, they looked down at the scaffolding descending the interior of the long stone tube. Lex approached a ladder, but instead of descending, he turned left and stepped off the ledge.

"Ow! Owwwwww! Ow!" he panted, rubbing his shins.

He took a whip off of a corpse and jumped down another several storeys, repeating the moaning and clutching his shins. This time, he healed himself before to the platform outside. Coming toward him was a monstrosity, a hideous lump of flesh with countless misshapen insect legs, human hands extending from the foremost pair. It lifted a blob of flesh hanging from the front to reveal a human head as it howled.

"Oh god, it's even worse in person."

"What's-?"

Beatrice shuddered and blasted it before it could get any closer. Seeing one further along the platform, she blasted it too and felt her face just to make sure she was still wholesome. Lex sighed and continued to the end of the platform, descending one ladder and then another. As he stepped off, a dart whizzed past his head. Quickly, he dashed up the ramp and toward a man dressed in bark armor.

With a spinning swing, he cut a gash into the man's chest and sent him tumbling from the platform. Turning around, he found the corpse of a wanderer and stuffed it into his bag. Descending the ramp now, he headed down yet another ladder. He killed three of the horrifying insect-men as he progressed.

"Great! No fall deaths this time!" he said, laughing a little morbidly as Beatrice joined him. "We're headed to the right. There's a stone pipe-thing coming out of the cliff wall with a bonfire inside."

With that, he sprinted down the ramps and past the mutants, not waiting for his companion to follow. With his Rusted Iron Ring, the knee-deep muck of the swamp didn't hold him back, and he was able to reach the bonfire without engaging any more of the creatures. Eventually, the witch reached him, her gown soaked in the poisonous waste of Lordran.

"I will kill you and piss on your grave."

"Go ahead and get cleaned up at the bonfire," he said, taking off his bag. "Look in here for something else to wear while we're here. Don't mind the bodies."

With that, he traipsed off into the swamp again. He hadn't gotten far when he shuddered, and a black phantom began to rise from a small patch of solid ground. A heavyset woman wearing only rags with a sack over her head like the Undead butchers clambered to her feet and howled with hunger. Before she could react, Lex had paced around her and run her through with his long sword. He twisted the blade as the woman clawed at it, but soon, the phantom had dissipated.

He absorbed her humanity and souls and dragged the massive cleaver she had been carrying back to the cave. By now, Beatrice had changed out of her filthy robes and was wearing the hunter's set they had found in Darkroot, but with her own hat.

"What next, kid? I don't want to spend any more time in this shithole than I have to."

"We're running through. After me."

After stuffing the cleaver into his bag and swinging it back over his shoulder, he ran out of the tunnel and to the right along the thin shoreline. He passed two more of the monsters without killing them and ran up a wooden ramp, climbing the ladder at the end. To his left was what seemed to be a water wheel, except there was no reason to churn the still waters of the bog, and the paddles didn't reach that far down. He jumped down onto one of the paddles and waited as it ascended. As it turned vertically, he stepped off of the mysterious swamp elevator and onto another platform.

At the end of the platform was a ladder, and after that ladder, he turned the corner to kill another of the "cragspiders." At the end of this platform was a bridge atop a long tree branch, though the tree itself was nowhere to be seen. Crossing to the other side, he slew another cragspider and swatted at mosquitoes while he waited for Beatrice to catch up. As the witch approached, he pointed at the red-robed, long-masked corpse beside him.

"One of the Sealers of New Londo. She was pushing the limits of sorcery. I thought you'd be interested."

Next to the corpse was a small, dirty cot. The platform they were on had three walls and a roof, so it was likely that this had been the Sealer's home. Under the mattress was a sorcery scroll, which Beatrice confiscated, placing in a roll of scroll cases on her belt. She also took the long, pointed staff for herself, while Lex awkwardly stuffed the body into his bag. The dwelling looted, they returned the way they had come, retreating to the ladder and climbing another. At the end of the platform was a ladder, and Lex pinned himself to the wooden wall.

"Poison dart snipers," he whispered. "Can you take them out quickly?"

"This is a criminal misuse of my talent."

She reached her staff around the corner and blasted the one in plain sight.

"How many more are there, kid?"

"I don't know? Four, maybe."

"They all packed inside there like fish in a barrel?"

"Three are. One's off to the side in another alcove."

Beatrice followed the wall carefully. As she approached the entrance to the dry drain, she flared up her soul force and hurled a soul vortex inside. She hazarded a glance inside and confirmed that there were three dead dart-blowers.

"Where's that other one, kid?"

"On the left."

She followed the wall inside and whirled into the alcove, blasting ahead. She hit only a desiccated corpse, and a dart whizzed over her head, knocking her hat off her head and to the floor a storey below.

"You shit!"

Enraged, she killed this one with a soul spear. The coast clear, Lex came around the corner, looking down at her hat. Two of the hairless red dogs were sniffing at it.

"If those bitches so much as-"

"Just shoot them."

"You shoot them! I don't want to risk blasting it into the swamp."

The cleric sighed.

"Fine. Kill those two over there," he said, motioning to the center of the area. "I'll get those two down there," motioning to the pair directly below the platform on which they were standing. "Then I'll lure those ones away from your hat. Simple?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Beatrice blasted one dog and then the other while Lex hopped off the ledge. He brought his sword down hard and crushed both of the dogs' throats before they realized he was there. He quickly turned and grabbed the Fire Keeper's soul from her corpse, mummified by the bog gasses. He cringed and moved out to where Beatrice had killed the other dogs.

"Here, boy! Fetch the stick!" he said, waving his sword in the air.

The dogs left the hat unmolested and charged at him. As they neared, he took a wild swing and sent both of them sprawling into the wall. After confirming that they weren't just playing dead, he walked toward the hat. As he reached down to pick it up, a soul arrow zapped his hand.

Before he could even complain, Beatrice interrupted, "Don't you touch my damn hat!"

She had killed the dogs at the end of the chamber and descended the ladder instead of jumping down like an idiot.

"Oooookaaaaaay," the cleric said, rubbing his hand.

She stomped past him and picked the hat up gingerly, wiping the grime off the bottom with her pant leg. Swearing under her breath, she pulled the poison dart out before setting it back on her head.

"Anyway," Lex continued, "we're basically done here. I'm going to farm titanite off of some giant leeches before facing the Bell's guardian, but since you don't have an anti-swamp magic ring like I do, why don't you head back up? Go ahead and give this Fire Keeper soul to Oscar."

He handed her the gray, tentacled blob.

"I wouldn't recommend heading to the fortress before us, but there ought to be a sorcerer from Dragon School at Firelink."

"Why the hell would I-?"

"I know you've got some sort of problem with them, but this could be a good opportunity. Not because I think your spells are lacking in any way but because he's a part of the secret society of sound sorcerers. God, that's a mouthful. Anyway, he's basically a spy, but he's either really bad at it or is pretending to be. Between the scroll we got from the dead Sealer and what you could learn from Griggs, you might be able to innovate something really awesome before you even get to the Archives."

Beatrice scratched her head with the gnarled branches of her staff.

"You know, kid, that might be the first good idea out of your mouth. You said you could handle the Bellkeeper alone, right?"

"Yeah. That phantom I killed earlier wants to see how the guardian tastes, I think. I did say alone, but realistically, the butcher can do the whole fight while I watch."

"Sounds good to me, kid."

By now, they had backtracked to the ladder where Lex had taken cover.

"Just head straight up. There's a key in a chest, and there'll be a few more enemies, but then you're home free. Head out the back, cut through the Valley of Drakes, and into New Londo. The elevator goes straight to Firelink. Just make sure you call it down before you try getting on."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not an idiot."

Lex grimaced but said nothing, so she turned around and headed up the ladder. The cleric reached into his bag and drew out a homeward bone. He snapped it and vanished in a puff of flame. Beatrice climbed back down the ladder and walked to the end of the platform. She drew her own pair of binoculars out of a traveling case and looked down over the swamp.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy, kid. Go ahead and get your titanite. I'll hang around here and see what sort of deal you made behind our backs. Who ever heard of surviving a fight with the damned Knight of Thorns?"


	16. Why did we keep him alive, again?

FIRELINK SHRINE

Undead rarely felt things like exhaustion or pain. Their bodies, constantly wasting away, only to be restored by flame, suffered from a sort of numbness to sensations that did not excite their hearts and souls. Even then, they were filtered. Even when the Knight of Thorns began peeling away at Lex's flesh, the cleric had reacted more out of primal fear than pain. Had he felt even half of the agony the false Darkwraith could inflict, he would have blacked out.

All that was true, and Oscar knew it. Yet as he ran, his legs were lead and his lungs were fire. No matter how he pressed himself, no matter how loudly his body screamed in protest, no matter how loudly his armor scraped and clanked, he wasn't fast enough. Siegmeyer had vanished ages ago, between the twisting turns and the sheer speed he wasn't built for. But still, Oscar couldn't go fast enough.

He burst out of the darkness of the aqueduct and smashed the hollow in the way with his shield, sending it hurtling down into the valley below. As the next one leapt to ambush him, he swung blindly and twisted to finish the attack in the gut of the firebomber. He couldn't risk the hollows following him and disrupting his concentration. He sprinted down the stairs and ran the holy blade through the next one's teeth, jumping with it still hanging and smashing it into the last one before splitting its jaw from its head. Faster, faster, the fire was still lit!

He ran up to it and slapped his sword against the one standing in the fire with a terrible clang. The flame flared and acknowledged him. Even if he fell in battle, the villain would have only a moment's reprieve. An Undead was truly immortal so long as his soul burned with passion, and Oscar was blazing with fury.

"Hm? What's that racket?"

Lautrec was close. Oscar hurdled over the fire and down the ledge to the lower side of the shrine where Anastacia was imprisoned. The knight of Carim had been leaning into Anastacia's cage as if he had been speaking with her, but he rose to face Oscar.

"Well, where have you been? I am glad to see you are safe," he said, apparently honestly. "I'm considering a change of location. I have a rather…pressing matter to attend to up above.

That Keeper has served me well, but… enough with her. I was worried that my previous gift wasn't enough. Here, I'll let you keep her soul… I'm sure the Keeper in Anor Londo can reinforce your Flask."

He drew one of his long, forward-curving swords and turned back to Anastacia."

"How about you leave her alive?" Oscar said grimly, gripping his own sword tightly.

"Oh… I can't do that. The Age of Fire is over. The goddess Fina has tasked me with tying up a few loose ends in that regard. The goddess' love is all-embracing, and these Fire Keepers are _so_ miserable. She can't bear to see them suffer just to maintain the Age of a dead man."

"It's all right. I've promised to teach her how to read and write, and there are others from Astora who might visit her was well."

Lautrec sighed.

"Easing her pain is one thing, but she and the rest of Gwyn's pawns cannot be suffered to live. It's time for the Fire and all its relics to die out, once and for all."

"You're insane!"

"No, I am merely an instrument of the goddess' will. Stand aside. I have no quarrel with you."

"I'm afraid I have one with you."

"Well…what have we here?" Lautrec said, chuckling. "I was grateful to you, but… so be it."

He drew his sword's mate and held them at the ready.

"If you won't take her soul, then the first move will be my gift to you…"

He started laughing again, his body loose, his swords dangling limply in his hands. Oscar lunged forward to strike at his breastplate. The decorative crossed arms on the front would be a hazard, catching any blow that struck them. Lautrec twisted his body to evade, but sure enough, the arms caught the blade. Unfortunately, it was not in the way Oscar had expected.

Though they remained firmly attached, the arms had shifted of their own volition and moved just enough to trap the sword between them and the main body of the breastplate.

"Didn't your prophet friend tell you?" Lautrec laughed. "The goddess can't keep her hands off me!"

He turned to face Oscar again. The knight of Astora backed up carefully, his shield at the ready.

"The prophet didn't tell you much, did he?"

Lautrec lashed out with his shotel, the blade perfectly curved to hook around Oscar's raised shield and stab him in the arm. Shocked, he dropped the useless hunk of metal, and his foe wasted no time in kicking it away. The arms shifted over Lautrec's chest pressing tightly against him. The holy Astoran steel warped, and the edges cracked. The knight of Carim removed the ruined weapon disdainfully and tossed it at Oscar's feet.

"Here. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have a sporting chance."

Oscar stared at him hard and began to reach down for it cautiously.

"Wait," a voice interrupted.

The tired warrior who had sat and gazed vacantly into the bonfire while this was happening had risen. He walked over to Oscar and drew his own sword. It was nothing special, but it was in excellent repair. No doubt he had cleaned and sharpened it relentlessly as he sat at the fire.

"If you're so determined to die, I won't stop you. But I am fond of that fire. I wouldn't mind giving this up for it."

Oscar took the sword and gave it an experimental swing while Lautrec cocked his head to one side.

"Are you ready now? I don't have all day."

He laughed again, but Oscar took the sword in two hands and hacked at his neck. The knight of Carim fell over before the blow reached him, rolling to his feet casually.

"So much work, so little time."

He swung upward at Oscar, who deflected the blow deftly, only to find the second in the shadow of the first. The curved blade swung under his guard and hacked at his tunic, but the damage was superficial. The next attack was instantaneous. Oscar barely had time to catch both blades with his own as they scythed down on him. As he blocked up, however, Lautrec kicked him squarely in the gut, throwing him to the ground.

"Get up. Killing two helpless pawns in one place will leave a bad taste in my mouth."

Oscar rose and charged again, pressing against Lautrec's guard with a flurry of slashes. Though the barrage would have overwhelmed an ordinary swordsman, Lautrec was the champion of a goddess and had two weapons besides.

"Truly, the Flames have faded if this is the skill of the Chosen Undead's companion."

As Oscar drew back to catch his breath, Lautrec reversed his momentum. As one blade came up, the other fell. Panicking and unable to block both, the elite knight blocked neither, the razor sharp blades of Carim biting into his shoulder and his thigh. Before he could escape, Lautrec pressed forward, jamming his knee into his gut again. The force of the blow ripped the blades through Oscar's flesh.

As he came down from the knee, Lautrec stomped forward, crushing the Astoran's ankle. Instead of tumbling over, the elite knight fell to one knee, but that only left him open to further abuse as Lautrec punched him in the face. When he fell, so too did the holy champion's metal boot, the heel digging into the shotel wound in his thigh.

"Pathetic. Not even worth my time."

Oscar laughed through the pain.

"You can win this battle. I'll just come back again and again. I don't need to win. I just need to last long enough for my friends to get here."

Lautrec laughed harder.

"You're wrong. Kill you? Why would I do that? It's no fun to fight the same weaklings again and again. I only needed to disable you."

He turned back to Anastacia.

"Now, where were we, my dear?"

Instead of the familiar bars, he found a quite different barrier standing in his way. The warrior from the upper Shine was blocking his way, holding a beaten steel shield with fading blue paint.

"Well, what do you know?" he whispered. "I guess I still had some Fire left in me."

It didn't last long. Lautrec's swords swung under the shield just like they had Oscar's. The blades entered under the ribcage, but in his frustration, the knight of Carim didn't stop there. He lifted the warrior into the air slowly, the blades sliding up and slicing cleanly through the warrior's innards until the tips emerged from either side of the man's neck. Lautrec sighed and pulled his swords free, the warrior slumping to the ground.

Oscar screamed, forcing himself to his feet. He charged Lautrec yet again, this time with such intensity as to force the champion away from the cell. Lautrec hacked at him with both swords, but Oscar grabbed the blade of his own weapon and shoved it up into the blow, just barely catching the blades on their curve. Before Lautrec could react, he lunged forward, smashing their helmets together. This time, Lautrec took a step back and dodged Oscar's followup swing, counterattacking in a flash.

Oscar had been waiting for that. Slamming the back of his arm into the blade, he winced but successfully parried. The sound of thunder echoed in his mind as Lautrec was repelled and made totally vulnerable. He lunged forward for the last time and smashed the sword against Lautrec's side. The blade shattered, but the holy armor buckled under the force of the blow, and steel fragments shot into the champion's side.

Lautrec stepped back again, now standing at the top of the stairs leading down to New Londo. He glanced down to check his wound but then looked up again quickly. A crowd was gathering at the upper Shrine. A fireball hurtled down at him, and he only narrowly avoided it as a soul arrow whizzed overhead.

"Oscar, my friend!" Siegmeyer bellowed. "I'm terribly sorry about being late, but I thought I should gather some help after our last encounter with a mad knight!"

The onion knight panted as he stumbled past the bonfire to catch up to Laurentius and Griggs.

"Ah…" Lautrec said plainly. "This is more than I had anticipated. Let's say our farewells for now. I'll leave this Keeper in your capable hands. We'll meet again."

Before anyone could react, he stepped off the ledge. Oscar rushed to the precipice. Lautrec hung onto the walls with his curved blades, swinging around the cliffside like a monkey. The elite knight grunted with the effort but sped after him. Unfortunately, he was too late.

Lautrec had taken the elevator down to New Londo. Even if he could follow the murderer down, catching him in that forbidden city of evil would be impossible. For now, he just needed a nap.


	17. Half my soul, to make you whole

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

Lex, true to his word, had spent the last hour running between the bonfire and the far end of the swamp killing some dozen giant leeches each time. He'd acquired a small fortune in large titanite shards and now had more than enough to upgrade everyone's armor, to say nothing of the unholy number of green shards, which mysteriously came in groups of five at the same frequency. Now, he was finally walking the other way, approaching the hill at the other end of the swamp. Only, it wasn't a hill at all. It was a massive ball of spiderweb, half-submerged int the bog and hung from the broken, gnarled branches of an unseen tree.

Inside were hollows with yellowed skin crusting over and hardening to chitin. They lay on the ground blankly, their hands firmly grasped in prayer. Horrifying cysts larger than a man rose high above all their backs, stretching the pockmarked skin into a grotesque shape, and the walls themselves bulged with the same burden. Lex shuddered and tried not to look as he made his way down the well-worn path to the fog gate. The mad she-butcher's summon sign appeared at his feet, but he pushed through without calling her.

He found himself in a massive round chamber, the walls and the ceiling likewise encysted with giant eggs. The floor was paved with concrete tiles, though countless years of abuse had left them cracked and worn. On cue, footsteps echoed from the far side. A horrifying spider with countless eyes and limbs bending in every direction climbed down the stairs the led to the chamber's other exit. Its shell pulsed with red light, and instead of mandibles, it had a great gaping maw that roared like a lion as it approached.

Fused to the back of this monster's neck at the navel was a woman. Though her proportions were normal – better than normal, actually – she was simply too large to be human. Her long brown hair covered her bare breasts, and her sharp facial features made her seem just as predatory as the monster that served as her legs. Around her right arm, she wore a tiara as a torc about her bicep, and she held a flaming, jagged sword that seemed to have been one of her spider's legs, sharpened and made all the deadlier. Lex looked down at the reddish brown ring on his finger and then back up at the woman.

"Quelaag of Izalith!" he shouted.

The woman atop the spider didn't react, but the spider crouched. In an instant, it heaved its appreciable bulk into the air and lunged at the cleric, spitting lava as it landed. He panicked and threw himself under the creature and away from the lava. He crawled out from under its abdomen as its legs lanced at him, shooting jets of flame. As he got to his feet, the spider whirled around, and the Chaos Witch swung at him.

"Quelaag, chill!" Lex said, rolling out of the way. "I'm here to help!"

"So Kirk said," she said, still pressing the attack. "I don't know how Anor Londo found us, but I'll be sending your head back in a box, prophet."

The cleric tried to put some distance between them, but the spider was too quick, the Witch clinging to its head like it was a mere horse. She pat it affectionately as it lurched to a stop and began vomiting lava over Lex's head to cut him off. He doubled back but found himself facing the Witch's blade. The jagged edge pressed into his claymore as he tried to hold it back, flames licking his robes. Eventually, his strength gave way, and the burning blade dug into his stomach and catapulted him across the room.

In agony, he rolled back and forth on the tiles to extinguish his robes, but that delay cost him as the Witch charged, stabbing through his sword arm with one of the spider's spear-like legs. She raised her sword to deal the final blow, but he screamed and ripped his arm free, rolling under her again. Breathing heavily, he gripped his talisman so hard that his nails cut into it and raised it high. Swearing under his breath, he pressed a great lightning spear to her unprotected underbelly.

The spider jittered and jumped away awkwardly. Quelaag gritted her teeth and prepared to charge again.

"Please, Quelaag!" Lex said, gasping at the pain. "The gods aren't even _in_ Anor Londo anymore!"

"I fail to see how that's my problem."

"I can help you!"

"Amusing. The last time my sister and I took on human help, she fell fatally ill. The last time the gods tried to help, they tried to murder our mother. We do not need your miracles, prophet."

"It's-!"

Before Lex could say anything else, Quelaag had charged, spitting him on her sword. The curved razor sheared cleanly though his ribs, his heart, and back out through his shoulder blade. She raised him into the air as the souls poured out of his mouth and waited for the last soul, his delicate humanity, to escape, physically grabbing it with her free hand. Satisfied, she tossed the corpse aside as it dissolved into ash. Abruptly, she turned back to the entrance.

Another Undead was in the room somewhere. She had waited for the newcomer to attack during the fight with the first, but none had come. Curiously, she turned about and scanned the room. Nothing. No sign of intrusion.

But she could taste it. The flames of Chaos burning within her roiled uneasily at a large mass of humanity hidden somewhere nearby. Movement. That egg must have fallen. As she moved toward it, it dispersed into smoke, revealing another Undead, this one with a ridiculous hat.

"Later, Chaos Bitch!" Beatrice said, waving as she passed back through the one-way fog.

THE ABYSS

Pain, then nothingness. It was dark and warm and quiet. In the distance flickered a light, and it burned the eyes, which only wanted sleep. The light grew nearer and larger and all-enveloping. Nothing became everything.

A world of light and experience. He could feel it. His name had been Lex, and he had been waiting for something like this for so long. A chance to do something meaningful. A chance to be a hero.

Just now, it had been stolen from him. He didn't care. He just wanted for the light to go out so he could sleep. The light was dying now. The shadows were weak, but they were many, many to smother the few furiously-burning lights.

He could feel them. All of them. His mind traced back to the Primeval Man and back forward through the countless generations. He was Oscar of Astora, who wanted repentance and to prove himself. He was the rogue witch Beatrice whose lust for power was insatiable.

His was the Dark Soul. He was Humanity, Whole. He was nothing. He was everything. He was Desire and Wrath and Solitude and Fear.

A light approached the shell of what he had been. Like a marionette, he dragged it forward. Carelessly, he flung its limbs forward, swinging its sword at the light. But the thing was hardly light at all. Certainly, there was a small Flame burning brilliantly at its core, but now that he could see it through hollow eyes, it was more of himself than of the Fire.

Countless humanities swarmed about the Flame, trying to touch it to smother it or to steal it. _Pain, cold, rage, blood, dying,_ they whispered. He would take them into himself and calm them. He only had to extinguish that light, and they would come home of their own will. He tried again with the sword, but the light was too quick.

The light struck its puppet with something. A stick. Painful, but such pain had no meaning to the sum of all agony. It followed the light out into the swamp. The light slowed, but the puppet didn't, the magic it carried protecting it from such ill effects.

It followed the light past a great stone structure. The light had stopped and was gesticulating wildly. It didn't care and swung the puppet's sword again, slowly getting used to controlling the hollow. The light had avoided the attack but had hardly moved from the small bit of dry land. It flared and spat, and the humanities orbiting it giggled at the rage.

Abruptly, a shroud fell away, and a blinding light appeared. It had no Darkness to it. A stranger. A monster. Inhuman.

The Darkness was Desire and Wrath and Solitude and Fear. It threw the puppet at the brilliant light, but the light moved away quickly. It drew a tiny spark off from itself and thrust it into the puppet. No, that was wrong. The Darkness began to burn and was severed from itself. Its world turned to white.

BLIGHTTOWN

Lex's eyes fluttered open. A fire was stabbing right into his heart just like he remembered, but this was definitely the wrong Daughter of Chaos. Quelana withdrew her pyromancy flame, panting.

"It is done," she said in her mousey voice.

Beatrice stood beside them, hands on her hips.

"Shit, kid. I know I made fun of you before, but hollowing on your first death? That's so embarrassing that I can't even come up with a good burn. Thank your god that I still need you to find Logan, because I should have left your dumb ass."

"That is not the way to speak to someone who has just died," Quelana scolded. She turned to Lex and continued, "Are you… all right? That technique is one that I have been researching for many years, but it is not yet complete. I have not dared test it yet. Do you feel any ill effects? In body or soul?"

Lex shook his head.

"I… didn't think it was possible to reverse true hollowing. Sure, you can burn humanity to restore human form, but I thought once you were gone, you were gone."

"That is true," she said, nodding nervously. "The hollows have no Fire left in them, so no amount of humanity can restore them. I have given you a piece of myself. Only, I don't know what effects it could have on a human. Please, forgive me."

"Forgive you for what? I was… uh… I think I was a Neverborn there for a second. Thinking about it gives me a headache. But no. It's not a matter of forgiveness – you _saved_ me. Thank you."

"Beatrice, how did you find her anyway? You need to have a maxed out pyromancy flame to see through her illusion."

"Maybe it's just that everyone else is shit at finding things!" she said defensively.

"Right, so. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you went back to Firelink."

"I figured you were going to backstab us. The Knight of Thorns was around in my time too, and there were no survivor stories. At all. I didn't exactly believe your 'infinite humanity' shit. But I guess getting shanked like a bitch proves you're innocent."

"You watched that happen?!"

"It could have been an act! And then you died. It was hilariously disappointing."

Lex grumbled and turned to Quelana.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but why did you save me? You've been living in exile for a thousand years. Surely, you could have tested it on someone else before now. From what I could tell as a hollow, Beatrice just walked over, and then you popped out and rezzed me."

"I… I panicked. A strange woman started shouting at me while running from a hollow and asking for help restraining it. I thought it must have been someone dear to her… I know what that is like. But I see I was mistaken."

"Yeah, I thought we could hogtie you and have Oscar drag your ass to Anor Londo. I know you said it was empty, but shit, there might've been something at your god's temple or whatever."

"Anor Londo is empty…?" Quelana repeated, stunned.

"Yeah, except for Gwyndolin. Goddamn pantsless tentacle Hitler. And Ornstein and Smough. I'm honestly not sure what the definition of god is."

"You're a shitty prophet."

"Yes, we have established this."

"Has the Flame faded that much…?" Quelana asked fearfully, ignoring the tangent.

"Yeah, someone's going to have to sacrifice themself to the Flame pretty soon, or we're all going to have arms hanging down to our feet and fat heads with twenty eyes. The gods have all mostly quit and run off to Carim and other places, I guess. I am allegedly a prophet, but my knowledge is actually from another source, and my goddess is fictional. Your sister didn't take too well to thinking I was from Anor Londo, so I just thought I'd make that clear now."

"Fake?!" Beatrice roared, grabbing his collar.

"My info is still correct!" Lex said, pulling back. "Most of the time, anyway. The more we change fate, the more it changes around us, so I can't be blamed for not knowing that."

"Yeah, yeah," Beatrice said, sighing and letting go.

"You mentioned my sister?" Quelana interrupted.

"Eeeeeeeh," Lex groaned, unsure where to start. "I'd convinced Kirk that I wanted to help, but it looks like Quelaag has a bone to pick with, uh, pretty much everyone. She kind of stabbed me repeatedly and then hung me out to dry like her name was Vlad."

"I'm terribly sorry. If I were stronger… and braver… I would have stopped her long ago. Quelaag was the strongest of us, physically, and mentally too. She was the commander of Izalith's military forces and unmatched in swordplay. Only Quelara could keep up with her. What hope do I have?"

"Aaaaawkward question," Lex said, raising his hand. "Do you know she's still sane? And the other one who's also a spider but whose name escapes me."

"What? Impossible. The Flame of Chaos breeds nothing but madness."

"Yeah, about that. There's more than one kind of madness. I'm not sure how badly they're affected, but they're sane enough to have a conversation with, and there are certainly 'sane' humans running around that are nuttier by a long shot. Like a Hawkeye Gough long shot."

"I… Will you face her again?"

Lex nodded.

"I have to get past her to ring that Bell. Gods know why it's down here. Stupid Prophecy."

"You are headstrong, like my pupil was. I wonder how you went hollow so easily. Please, do not do it again. A part of me is in you now. Do not let it get snuffed out.

I will await you here, to learn of your victory or defeat. I cannot harm the demons who hold mastery over fire, my sister included. Please, if she cannot control herself, end her misery."

Lex nodded solemnly and turned to leave. Beatrice had sat down.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting on you to get back, kid. What, did you think I'd help you with this menial shit? I'm only useful for killing shit, and you seem pretty dead-set on talking through this. Now, Little Miss Muffet, let's hear about that flame sorcery that preceded all the pyromancy shit."

Lex groaned and sprinted to the spider's nest. Fortunately, Beatrice had killed everything on her way back, so all he had to do when he reached it was chew some of the bitter purple moss he had collected in Darkroot. He'd have to be serious about this now. Checking to make sure neither of the witches were watching, he stripped out of his filthy robes and tossed them in his bag, swapping the Rusted Iron Ring for Havel's. Feeling lighter than ever, he rummaged through the bag until he had assembled what he thought was a manly outfit.

He slipped on the wanderer's slacks, tightening the boots and strapping on the knee pads with an air of determination. It took him some time for his Lordran-granted instincts to guide him through donning the Eastern cuirass, but he soon had all the straps and buckles in place. He polished the roaring lion's head on the left pauldron with his talisman, grinning at how ridiculous and badass it was. At last, he snapped the brigand's bracers onto his wrists and looked himself over. He was a glorious golden god.

He struck a few poses from various fantasy games in order to psyche himself up. As he turned to flex, he noticed Beatrice and Quelana staring at him in the distance. They had a pair of binoculars from gods-know-where. He gulped and quickly turned to enter the lair.


	18. We Are Family

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

Lex swaggered down the path and through the fog. This time, the spider-Witch rushed out, leaping over the ledge instead of walking down the stairs.

"Quelana!" she shouted, desperate.

When she saw the cleric instead, she grew furious.

"What have you done to my sister?!"

"Uh. Long story?"

The spider leapt again, but this time, Lex was ready. His talisman sparked in his hand as lava poured out of the arachnid's mouth. He blasted it in the face and rolled out of the way of the molten stone before readying another shot. Though the spider was stunned, the Witch was not, and she strained forward as far as her fused torso would let her, slashing at him. Now, he knew better than try to face her with physical strength and backed just out of her range.

He hurled the bolt side-armed and paced backward, but the spider followed him through the lava unharmed. It was ready for the second bolt and simply charged through the pain to keep its prey within sword range. Lex bobbed left and right, dodging all but one swing, which cut through his right pauldron like butter as it grazed it. At last, he ducked under her arc and rammed his sword upward with both hands. The blade hacked cleanly through her exposed torso, but lava gushed out of the wound and turned to flesh, as if she had never been injured.

The spider opened its mouth. Lex felt the heat and quickly grabbed hold of one of its legs, pulling himself out of the way as it vomited lava. He used his momentum to swing again, hacking at the spider's side. The arachnid bucked and vented flames from its sides at him, scorching him and causing him to retreat.

"Believe it or not, I'm really here to help!" he said, holding his talisman at the ready.

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe someone wrapped around that serpent's Prophecy."

She rushed forward again, and he ducked to the side. Instead of chasing him, she hugged the spider's head.

"Whoa! No!"

Lex turned and ran as she pulled open the spider's maw and released a wave of red energy. Though he managed to avoid the worst of it, the outer limit of the shockwave hit him and sent him tumbling toward the stairs. As he tried to get to his feet, the spider spewed lava all around him, cutting off his escape. It walked through the molten rock casually, bearing down on its prey with all the confidence of an experienced hunter.

"Not again," he grumbled.

Abruptly, something hot wrapped around his arms and chest, binding them to his sides. Bands of flame had encircled him, and they jerked him up the stairs just before Quelaag's sword gouged a line through the stone.

"So this is our little Abysswalker."

Another woman in the gold-hemmed black robes of the Witch's Daughters slowly made her way down the stairs. She held a whip of solid flame in her hands, its end fused in a band around Lex.

"Quelara!" Quelaag shouted. "Why have you abandoned-?"

"You forget your place, _second_ Daughter! Mother will be quite fine unless the Undead suddenly start growing wings and fly past the both of us. The seals hold fast, and I doubt there will be any particularly terrible new demons spawned while I take a brief reprieve from my watch. How cruel of you, to make poor Kirk travel all the way down to Mother's prison."

"What? Kirk did? I did not send him."

"I know," the eldest Daughter of Chaos said, laughing. "He came of his own will. An Undead suggested that it was possible to draw humanity right out of the Abyss. Setting aside Quelaav's illness, unlimited humanity has _many_ applications, doesn't it?"

The look in her eyes beneath the hood was nothing short of diabolical. Lex wondered briefly if Quelana had been correct in assuming they were beyond saving.

"Give the human a chance, won't you, sister? He clearly already knew we were here. If destroying us was his goal, then we'd be dealing with a whole platoon of knights, wouldn't we? I highly doubt the humans would set aside their differences long to send the international group Kirk reported."

"Knowing where we are is precisely what makes him dangerous!" Quelaag fumed. "He could rally-"

"Rally whom, Quelaag? The Flame is dying, in case you couldn't see the state of Quelaav's bonfire. If the humans rallied to slay us, I would be more impressed than anything."

She started to laugh again, but fell into a fit of coughing instead. She covered her mouth with her hand, but lava gushed out between her fingers. The whip in her hand surged with energy and began to melt through Lex's armor instead of just being mildly uncomfortable. Quelaag rushed up the stairs, kicking the cleric out of the way. The whip broke, and he was free, if winded by the blow.

"Sister, you shouldn't come here. The exertion could kill you on the way back, and we'd have no way of knowing."

Now Quelara was laughing and coughing at the same time.

"I am not that weak yet. Do not mistake me for Quelaav. Human. You will be sworn to our younger sister's service and to our own. This is your desire, is it not?"

"Uh. Yeah. Basically.

"Excellent. If you betray us, you shall face Quelaag's wrath. Between the two of us, there _are_ fates worse than death. Tell me: how did you learn to speak Izalithic?"

"Well, I've got this ring and-"

"Ah. One of Mother's. I thought at much. Come here, I've a better one."

Lex awkwardly shuffled around Quelaag's massive spider body to reach her sister. She wasted no time in grabbing his wrist with the force of an iron vice, causing his fingers to splay. Before he could react, she slipped the Old Witch's Ring off of his twitching finger, replacing it with a simple band made of black wood, a red-orange garnet studded into either side. Lex's eyes hazed over, and the floaters formed into words.

_Widow's Ring_

_A black ring granted to elite commanders_

_of Izalith's legions. Allows long-range_

_communication with the Daughters of Chaos._

_Rapid communication was the difference_

_between life and death for those who marched_

_at the head of Izalith's legions. Alas, they_

_could not be warned of the Bed of Chaos_

_before it consumed them._

As his vision cleared, he felt the ring vibrating around his finger.

"Raise it to your ear, human."

He did so, and the buzzing stopped.

"_Hello, human,_" Quelara said without moving her lips.

She seemed quite pleased with herself.

"_Don't be alarmed. The sorcerers of Izalith were once the rivals of New Londo and Oolacile. This is but one of the many magics we had at our disposal during those days, before the Flame of Chaos infected us and made it too dangerous to use such sorceries._"

Lex breathed in sharply, struggling not to blurt out about how far mobile phone technology had advanced and complain that his ring didn't have internet or even solitaire. Though when he was honest with himself, he really was the type of person who would play phone solitaire in the midst of a fantastic adventure. Instead of complaining, he forced a polite nod.

"Then let us make the Covenant," she said with her real voice.

Fortunately, the ring still allowed Lex to understand them when they spoke.

"Sister, he can swear his loyalty when he has completed his impossible mission. I will not let Quelana's killer anywhere near Quelaav."

"Hey! I didn't-"

"You have my sister's soul, and you dare claim innocence?"

"Well yeah," he said, shrugging. "I mean, she's still alive. Outside. In the swamp. Talking to the lunatic who's been traveling with me."

"First harvesting humanity from the Abyss and now that Quelana is wandering the swamp without her soul. Sister, how long are you going to humor this human?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Lex interrupted. "If you've got this magic ring that lets you talk to each other, then why haven't you talked to each other in a thousand years?"

Quelara began walking down the stairs.

"She cut herself off entirely, afraid that the Chaos might spread, I suppose."

"Sister-!" Quelaag started.

"I am going for a brief stroll, to stretch my legs and to see if our little Abysswalker is telling the truth. Watch him while I'm out, won't you, Quelaag. You may do as you please with him if he tries anything unusual."

With that, she passed through the fog wall, the vapor burning away at her very presence. Lex was left alone with a very agitated giant spider-slash-Chaos-Witch.

"So," he said awkwardly, "what's Kirk's story? The whole Darkwraith thing is pretty convincing."

The Witch glared sidelong at him and ran her fingers along the length of her sword.

"Kikurinus was the head of Quelaav's guard. He was not with her at the time of the… accident that befell our family. Through willpower alone, he resisted Mother's power. Of every human in Izalith, he alone remained… mostly unchanged. He has not forgiven himself for being there when it happened. So he serves not as a beloved friend, but as a stranger and a Servant."

Lex's faced contorted as he tried to say something, but no words came. He could be eloquent when he needed to be, but it was always superficial. Better that he didn't say anything at all.

"Uh," he said after a while, "no hard feelings, you know? For killing me. It was actually really cool, and I had some sort of universal consciousness, union with the godhead, sort of thing go on. I mean, maybe that only happens when you go hollow, but still."

"When will your lies cease, human?" Quelaag said, bored. "You could not have gone hollow."

"What if I told you a bunch of other unbelievable and then proved it? I mean, we could take a walk down to Ash Lake, and I could show you the last everlasting dragon. Assuming it wouldn't kill us both. He seems pretty chill, though, honestly. Just kind of sits there and looks imposing. Doesn't bat an eye even if you cut his tail off."

The Witch rolled her eyes. The spider spat in disgust. At last, the fog roiled once more, and Quelara, Quelana, and Beatrice entered the chamber.

"'sup?" the cleric shouted.

"You took so long, we thought you'd hollowed and then wandered off somewhere, you shit!" Beatrice shouted back, laughing.

Quelaag just stared. She looked down at Lex and then back to Quelana.

"Quelana!" she cried, rushing forward.

The Mother of Pyromancy screamed as the horrible spider monster ran her down. Before she could flee, Quelaag had tossed aside her sword and lifted her into the air, spinning her around with the strength of her monstrous body before drawing her into a bear hug.

"We thought you hadn't made it!"

It was only now that she noticed her younger sister had been screaming her lungs out the entire time.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I must have scared you terribly!"

Quelana seemed about to faint, but she licked her lips and forced herself to speak in an even tone, "That is quite all right, sister. I am… glad to see you again. I… I am terribly sorry for… assuming the worst of you. I felt too sorry for myself to even consider that you might be hurting more."

Quelaag lunged forward to hug her again but stopped abruptly. Quelana recoiled in fear, but after seeing the sorry look on her elder sister's face, extended her own arms. The spider-woman lifted her up and swung her like a ragdoll. At long last, Lex wondered what his own family was going through right now and whether he was missing because he had genuinely been whisked away to another world or if he was just in a coma. Beatrice wandered off to lean on the wall next to the stairs while looking dour.

With their hoods off, the sisters' differences became more apparent. They all had sharp features, but Quelaag's were the sharpest, with a thin nose and narrow eyes in contrast with her plump lips. In comparison, Quelana looked a little plain, with a rounder face and thin lips. Her black hair was tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way, and long nights in the swamp had led deep circles to form under her eyes. Quelara was a study in contrast, her features fine but the general shape of her face rounder and softer. Her hair hung in a long braid that swept about her ankles.

"Come, sister!" Quelaag said, "We must tell Quelaav! This will be the first good thing to happen to her since we came to this accursed swamp!"

She put Quelana down and looked at the two humans suspiciously.

"Humans. You may come as well, but do not mistake my mercy for trust."

Lex shrugged, and Beatrice flipped her off, so she scowled and led the group up the stairs as the fog walls finally faded. The next room was circular, with a hole eaten in the center of the floor. A number of tall windows adorned the far side, gazing out over the ruins of Lost Izalith. Directly above the hole was the ash-covered second bell. Beatrice tried to sneak over to it, but Lex shook his head at her.

She grumbled and followed the others down the spiral and into the next room. Quelaag tapped at one of the walls, and it slid aside to reveal a hallway blocked by another egg-bearing Undead – but this poor soul was not hollow.

"Mistress Quelaag!" he shouted, clearly speaking whatever Lex was hearing as English rather than Izalithic. "There are so many guests! Shall I-?"

She glared at him, and he crawled out of the way as quickly as he could.

"Forgive me, Mistress Quelaag. It was not my place."

"'sup, Eingyi?" Lex said, nodding. "Five hundred souls for the Servant Roster, right? I want to see if there are any hackers."

The wretched creature looked up at the cleric in confusion and turned to Quelaag for guidance. She snorted and walked to the far side of the room so that everyone else had enough room to fit in the relatively small chamber.

"I will dare to presume that was a yes," Eingyi said. "Are you a new Servant?"

"Yeah, basically. Quelaag doesn't really like me right now, but Quelara's interested in a scheme I have to get a lot of humanity really quickly."

"Mind your manners when speaking of our Mistresses," Eingyi scolded as he retrieved a leaflet of bloodstained parchment from behind an egg sack.

The cleric nodded and crossed his fingers behind his back as he exhaled what few souls he'd gained as a result of Beatrice's killing the swamp denizens. The egg-bearer absorbed the energy and handed over the leaflet. Lex's eyes quickly shot to the top. Unfortunately, the sixty-thousands he was used to seeing were not there. The long list of names was mostly empty, and at the top by a large margin was Kirk, with merely a few hundred donations.

He stuffed it into the much smaller, more chic bag that came with his Eastern breastplate, which was connected to the same hammerspace the first one had been.

"Quelaag?"

Though much of her body was stuck into the side of one wall, there was another spider-bound sister in the room. Where Quelaag was strong, this one was frail, her skin gray as ash and her hair thin and shock white. She didn't move, her hands pressed to her bony chest as if in prayer. All around her were countless eggs, each cold and lifeless. Her voice was thin, and she struggled to turn her head, though her eyes did not open.

"Quelara, you came to visit? Qu-Quelana! Two Quelanas?"

"It is a little complicated, Quelaav. I lent someone a part of my soul, but I am here."

Tears began to stream down Quelaav's face. She sniffled and whimpered. Lex tugged at Quelara's sleeve.

"Hey," he whispered, "you want me to tell your brother to stick his head through the window or something?"

His finger vibrated again, so he raised his hand to one ear.

"_You do know quite a lot_," she said, chuckling. "_But not enough to think of whispering into your hand instead of speaking out loud._"

Now he covered his mouth his his hand and turned away from the reunion.

"_In my defense, you're fated to die without saying a word. I should have perfect knowledge of every magical artifact in Lordran, and this one shouldn't exist._"

"_Well, I suppose we need to sit down and have a long talk. I'm __**very**__ interested in that sort of knowledge, 'fake prophet.'_"

Abruptly, Quelara was physically dragged away by Quelaag and forced to be an active participant in the hugging and crying. After a while, the latter regained her composure and acknowledged the pair of strangers in the room.

"Uh. Hi. I'm Lex of Luthor, prophet of Slaanesh, goddess of perfection and sensation."

"Beatrice. Best witch in the room."

Quelaag's eyes were daggers, but fortunately, she had forgotten her sword upstairs.

Quelara gave the second sister a knowing look and changed the subject, "The prophet, here, has foreseen a way of gathering quite a bit of humanity. He heard of your selflessness, Quelaav and wishes to enter a Covenant with you so that he might share his sudden windfall."

"Really?" Quelaav whispered, her frail voice cracking with excitement. "You are too kind. Please, give me a moment to gather the strength…"

She grimaced and grasped her hands all the tighter as Lex knelt before her. As before, the knowledge of a spell came flooding into his mind. The lightning spears had been hymns of glory, righteous and pure. This was madness. His mind burned and rushed in a thousand different directions before the image of a roiling, blazing fire scorched itself into his eyes. He gasped and coughed, nearly falling over.

"Lex?" Quelaav said fearfully.

"I'm all right," he said, trying to physically shake it off. "I could feel the Warp overtaking me there for a moment, but worship of Slaanesh has prepared me for such things."

He rose and rolled his shoulders before spinning around in place and kneeling again.

"Whoops, forgot."

He drew the small collection of humanity sprites he had gathered out of his bag. There weren't nearly as many of them as there ought have been since he hadn't been exploring properly and had split the party, but he scooped them up and crushed them all against his breastplate, absorbing the Dark Soul. It felt great. He hadn't noticed from slowly absorbing ambient humanity as he killed hollows, but getting a bunch at once was like night and day. He felt strangely whole and at peace with the world.

He knew he had to give it up, though, and sighed, exhaling a stream of darkness. It wafted in the air for a moment before passing to Quelaav, seeming unsure whether that was the correct thi ng to do. Eventually, Lex would have to ask how they'd managed to create a non-human Fire Keeper in the first place, but doing so now seemed a little rude. As he rose, he realized another rude thing.

"Beatrice. She's had no idea what's been happening, except for the introductions."

The rogue witch once again gave the universally-understood gesture. As Quelana began sputtering apologies again, Quelara just shook her head and Quelaag grumbled something she didn't want Quelaav to hear.

"The prophet has made his Covenant, and since you don't seem inclined to share your all-too-abundant humanity, I think it is time you left. Come, I will see you to the end of my Domain."

"Finally!" Beatrice said, waving her hands in the air.

They climbed the spiral stairs again, and Beatrice beat the Bell's clapper like it owed her money. They descended back to the battlefield and crossed it so casually, one might never have thought the cleric and the Chaos Witch had fought to the death a short while earlier. The tunnel ahead was narrow, but Quelaag managed to squeeze her massive body through. Even when it got so tight that it seemed impossible, she clung tight to the spider and let it wriggle through. Eventually, they had reached the exit, and Quelaag gazed out on the swamp for the first time in centuries.

"Just as disgusting as I remember it."

Beatrice ignored the words she couldn't understand and continued down the hill.

"Beatrice!" Lex called out. "Go on back to the bonfire. I need to clear a few things up with Quelaag!"

"Do you, now?" she said, suspiciously, fingers itching without her sword at hand.

"You see that dead archtree over there?" the cleric said, pointing. "It's completely hollow. Full of lots of nasty things, but that's beside the point. Once you get to the bottom, it opens up into Ash Lake. Most hauntingly beautiful place in Lordran, if you don't mind that it's all dead.

As I mentioned, the last of the everlasting dragons makes its nest there amongst the fallen archtrees. But aside from harassing that guy by cutting off his tail, would you like go with me sometime? To, uh… have a picnic? You know what, that's a terrible idea, actually. Ash would get on everything."

"What are you suggesting, human?"

"Uh. Uh, wait. I'm trying to think of a better place, and it's not coming because most of Lordran is a hellhole. But yeah, uh. Basically, I, uh…"

"You know what? Okay. I have a thing for, like, really, _really_ confident-and-or-aggressive women. And I was kind of wondering if you would be interested in dating me or letting me court you or whatever is socially acceptable here. Anor Londo!

We could go to Anor Londo! Cities are beautiful once all the assholes are gone, so that just means I have to beat up Gwyndolin and the gank squad. I mean, that's a little far away, and I don't know if I could warp you with the Lordvessel too or if homeward bones work for the, uh, not-Undead, but that's an option. Maybe?"

"You are attracted to this form?" Quelaag said derisively, not believing him.

"Well, I mean, you don't shave your legs, but I think I could get used to it.

She snorted as she caught a laugh in her throat.

"We shall see," she said, a little more relaxed than she had been earlier.

She shook her head and turned back into the tunnel. Lex waved.

"I'll call you!" he shouted as he walked down the hill.

Instead of at the bonfire, he found Beatrice at the first stone pillar, covering her mouth as she chuckled.

"What?"

"You-!" she started, out of breath. "You want to do the hanky-panky with the creepy-crawly!"

"What do you-?"

"I don't speak Izalithic, but neither do you, dipshit!"


	19. Intermission

Tune: _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_ by Charlie Daniels

Well, Velka went down to Lordran

She was lookin' for a soul to burn

She was in a bind 'cause the Flame was dyin'

And Undead began to turn

When she came across one young man

Drinking orange soda and playing Dark Souls

And the goddess jumped out of the computer screen

And said, "Boy, I'll give you a role

I bet you didn't know it

But I'm a seasoned gamer too

And if you're fine riskin' your mind

The hero could be you

Now you play pretty good PVE

But give a goddess her due

And tell me real quick why shouldn't I pick

Others who're better than you"

The boy said, "My name's Alex

And it might be a Sin

But I'll stake my claim on lightin' that Flame

I'm the baddest heir to Gwyn"

Alex you sharpen up your sword

And charge your lightning spears

'Cause Dark's broke loose in Lordran

And the Raven knows your fears

And if you win

This crumbling ancient Kiln burns your soul

But if you lose

The Darkness takes you whole

The goddess fell into the game

And she said, "I'll start this show"

And souls flew from her fingertips

As she conjured up her crows

Then she pulled the boy across the screen

And locked him in a cell

Then the game reset again

And the start we won't retell


	20. Now taking bets on Laurentius' survival

FIRELINK SHRINE

Lex and Beatrice had made good time getting out of Blighttown, neither of them wanting to spend any more time among the poison and bugs and mutants than they had to. As they crossed the rickety wooden planks that spanned the Valley of Drakes, Lex pointed out where Beatrice's corpse would be. For once, she lacked a "witty" response, merely staring at the empty space on the cliffside while the cleric unlocked the crumbling turret that guarded the back road into New Londo. The silence continued as they passed through the dimly-lit cavern of the abandoned metropolis and to the grimy steel elevator. To Lex's surprise, it was at their level rather than up at Firelink where it was supposed to be at game start, but he chalked it up to a minor divergence and stepped on the button to send it up.

On the ride up, Beatrice still seemed to be in a daze, so he left her be and hummed awkwardly to himself. As they neared the top, voices began to echo from the Shrine above.

"-and so the thief said, 'like I Carim!'"

This was followed by uproarious laughter, which was great because it meant that Lautrec hadn't murdered everyone. As he and Beatrice wound the stairs up to the lower Shrine, he found Oscar, Siegmeyer, Laurentius, Griggs, and even the Crestfallen Warrior all gathered in a circle in front of Anastacia's prison. The warriors had forgone their helmets, and Oscar was gesticulating wildly as he began to describe the time when his uncle Bertram found himself atop a raging bull and rode it halfway across the county. As the pair walked up, the knight stopped his story and waved them over, Laurentius scooting back to enlarge the circle.

"Lex! Beatrice! We heard the Bell from here! I take it you had no trouble!"

"You kidding me?" Beatrice said, finally back to herself. "It's just one thing after another with this dipshit! First, he-"

"Stop. Stopstopstop. I'll tell you more secrets and stuff," the cleric said hurriedly. "Just…don't go into any detail about what happened down there. Honest. I know where to find some scrolls on forbidden sorceries that I know I'll regret giving you."

Beatrice shrugged.

"Works for me, kid. I'll just hold onto it to blackmail you later."

They sat down between Laurentius and Griggs. Though the latter had at first seemed a little relieved he would no longer have to sit next to a filthy pyromancer, a witch wasn't much better.

Oscar and Siegmeyer looked at Lex with concern, so he continued, "Right, so. In short, the Bell was rung, yes. There were some minor difficulties, but I did join the aforementioned Covenant. Everything is all right now. There is no cause for alarm. How did you guys do with the psychopath?"

Oscar glanced at Siegmeyer, who nodded.

"If you're sure you're fine… It was bad. I was desperate not to fail again, so I ran ahead without Siegmeyer. A deity's champion is nothing to scoff at. He completely overwhelmed me and destroyed my family's sword. Wilhelm, here," he gestured to the Crestfallen Warrior, "gave me his own sword, but I just got a second beating.

He tried to go after Anastacia while I was down. Wilhelm stopped him, at the cost of his own life. I was able to get a counterattack in because of that, but then I managed to break Wilhelm's sword as well. Fortunately, Siegmeyer caught up with Laurentius and Griggs, and the three of them scared him off. Honestly," he grumbled sarcastically, "if we have to fight a third evil knight, I'm going to save him the trouble and hollow myself."

"Nah. There aren't anymore _knights. _Well, maybe with a capital K."

"What-?!"

"So anyway, I had a few questions for you, Griggs. I mean, I know I'm a cleric and you're a sorcerer, but do you think it would be possible to apply some of the principles of sorcery to miracles? Keeping in mind that killing the originator of a miracle doesn't weaken it, I wonder if it isn't possible to develop new miracles using the same methodology as with sorceries."

"I… I had never considered it. If what you say is true, I suppose it could be possible. Perhaps Master Logan would know more."

"I think his focus is a bit more narrow than what I'm looking for. Let's have a little chat about it off to the side so that Beatrice doesn't use her nonsense powers to steal stuff before it exists."

Though Griggs wasn't exactly enthused about it, Lex managed to drag him off toward the aqueduct while Beatrice showed off a rudimentary flame sorcery she had developed during the brief time she'd spent interrogating Quelana. It was nothing especially interesting – merely flame arrows instead of soul arrows – but Laurentius looked on in wonder.

"It's beautiful! I have never seen a flame so calm. It's like it's asleep. Where did you learn to tame it like that?"

"Of course you haven't seen anything like it, swamp-shit. It's actual sorcery instead of that fake crap. The damn hag didn't want to teach me anything, so I had to piece it together from what she told me about how it worked."

"Even a witch hates pyromancy. I can't believe this."

"That was uncalled-for, Beatrice," Siegmeyer scolded.

"I can't help it if a bunch of ass-backward swamp-dwellers keep reinventing the wheel because none of them know how to write and take their spells to the grave. They're just as shit as that repressive Dragon School."

"That's still-!"

"Hey Siegmeyer, come over here!" Lex interrupted.

"Beatrice," the knight said, rising, "when I come back, I expect you to have worked out your differences. Is that understood?"

She knew better than to try arguing with someone who took that tone, so she just muttered a shallow, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

As soon as he turned, Beatrice cocked her head to one side and flipped him off with both hands. Oscar started to say something, but the witch just drew the Fire Keeper soul out of a belt pouch and thrust it into his hands. He frowned at her disapprovingly but turned back to Anastacia. Wilhelm, seeing the camaraderie dying faster than the Fire, shook his head and sighed deeply before returning to his usual place in front of the bonfire.

"Look, if you want to try to stop being a failure of a magic user, maybe the hag would be more inclined to teach you. She's the one who sold out and watered perfectly good sorcery down to that useless shit anyway."

Laurentius stared at her, dumbfounded.

"You met the mother of pyromancy?"

"Yeah. A shame. She's definitely a genius, but she's such a fricking coward. Definitely the sort of loser you'd expect to have invented a new kind of magic out of paranoia."

"Please, tell me. I came to Lordran to attune myself to the ancient arts. Learning from the mother of pyromancy herself would make all of this worth it."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, swampy. She's with her sisters down at the bottom of Blighttown in the horrifying spider pit. Make sure you don't get stabbed to death by the angry one like the shitty prophet did."

"I… Thank you," Laurentius said curtly, quickly rising and heading down the stairs to the elevator.

"He's screwed," Beatrice said, glancing at Oscar. "Let's go grab fatty and the kid. Now he owes me two kinds of new sorcery, and I intend to collect, pronto."

Oscar nodded, and they headed up to the upper Shrine, Oscar carrying both his and Siegmeyer's helmets. The knight waved at Wilhelm as they passed, and the warrior managed a weak nod in return. They found the trio with one more standing at the base of the stairs to the aqueduct. Lex had removed his breastplate and was making wild gestures with his talisman while talking to Griggs and Siegmeyer. A man in a strange horned helmet was seated off to the side and was tinkering with the cleric's armor.

"Aye, siwmae!" he said enthusiastically, looking up. "This group just gets more and more interesting. Catarina and Astora. Dragon School and a witch. A cleric who wants to make up miracles. You're quite a fun lot."

"I think I've learned what I needed to," Lex said, nodding at Griggs. "Do you think you can make the modifications, Domhnall?"

"Well, I'm willing to give it a try. Even a failure will make for an interesting collection piece."

"Grand. Now Oscar, you said your sword was broken, right? Do you think you could use this?"

Now not wearing any sort of bag, Lex's hand instinctively went to his trouser pocket. In blatant defiance of reality, he began to draw out a greatsword the size of a tall man's leg. He winced a little as he saw that his blood had dried on the blade from when it had nearly bisected him. Still, he shrugged it off as best he could and handed the Black Knight sword to Oscar.

"This is… the sword of one of Lord Gwyn's knights," he began, in awe. "Where did you get it?"

"My small intestine. You're going to want to wash that off."

Oscar cringed a little but put down the helmets and took the sword regardless. He took a few practice swings to get used to the weight.

"It's heavy," he murmured. "I guess the weapon of a demigod couldn't be any lighter. It would break under the wielder's strength."

"Well, either that or on the dragons."

Oscar nodded and strapped the weapon to his belt, feeling a little wary of wearing a sword with no sheath. Lex glanced at the bonfire.

"I wonder exactly how the time distortion works. Beatrice, have you ever experimented with it?"

"A little. I know the hows but not the whys. If you hit the bonfire right now, you'd be able to skip waiting on whatever the hell horn-guy is doing because you don't give a shit. Horn-guy would live through it normally because he's actually working. So hit the bonfire, and let's hit the road. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not getting any younger."

"What an interesting principle. I wonder if Master Logan-"

"Shut up, Lizard School."

"Oh, Beatrice, not again," Siegmeyer sighed.

Lex shook his head and walked over to the bonfire, nodding at Wilhelm. When he reached out to it, the world swirled around him in a blur of flame. Oscar, Beatrice, and Siegmeyer didn't move, but the corpses of the slain hollows rose up around them. He watched Domhnall move in fast-forward, killing the hollows again and making the adjustments to his armor.

"The hollows didn't come back this time…" Oscar said thoughtfully. "Wait… The bodies have moved."

"Now that was a strange sight," Domhnall said cheerfully. "From my perspective, you all were standing perfectly still for the past few- Ah! We can't know how much time passed, can we?"

He chuckled lightly and waved Lex over. The Eastern cuirass was normally covered in small bits of metal in order to provide armor without drastically increasing weight or reducing flexibility. As a result, however, it clanked like a bag of coins whenever the wearer moved. The Zenese armor collector held up the modified version to show that now it was even worse. Additional metal plates clanked against one another, small bits hanging off the edges tinkled like a chime, and even the existing plates had been modified to clash against one another. Further, some of the round plates had been gouged out and bound together again at odd angles, and likewise, the lion's head on the left shoulder now had a steel cone dipping into its throat.

"I trust everything is to your liking?"

Lex looked it over and then took it to feel the difference in weight.

"Yeah. Looks great."

"Thank you. It's rare that I'm asked to modify existing armors. It was a fine change of pace."

The cleric strapped the armor back on and nodded to his companions.

"Thank you, Domhnall, and you, Griggs."

"No, the pleasure was mine," the sorcerer replied. "I never would have suspected a priest would be interested in pushing the frontiers of magic. It reminded me a little of Master Logan."

"Right. I'll make sure to send him your way when we get him out of the Funhouse."

"The what?"

"He got caught in the Fortress of a Thousand Traps. No big deal."

"Please, yes! It is imperative that I find Master Logan. If he is trapped, I beg of you to free him!"

"Yeah. I mean, there's no reason why I wouldn't. I even freed that psychopath, Lautrec."

"That was…?"

"Anyway, time to move, people!"

He waved them on toward the ruined chapel before Griggs could continue the train of thought. The sorcerer shook his head and sighed, simply waving them off as they walked away.

UNDEAD PARISH

Between the four of them, the hollow soldiers that blocked their way were trivial, so they continued to the bonfire in the old church. Lex and Oscar headed downstairs to meet Andre while Siegmeyer tried to lecture Beatrice on how to play nice with others.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customers," he said, putting down his latest work. "What can I do for you boys?"

"We need you to improve our armor before we head over to the deathtrap across the bridge. And also-"

Lex rummaged in his bag and removed a small box make of bleached wood. The top of the box was open, and a faint white light streamed out of it, emitting a pleasant warmth.

"My, that's a rare ember you have there," Andre said. "I've seen one of those before… It's the ember of a divine blacksmith. Might you consider leaving that with me? I could produce divine weapons with a flame such as that."

"Yeah. I don't know whether it was deliberate or just negligence, but one of Seath's creatures attacked the tower in Darkroot. The other divine smith is petrified over his anvil. Without a fragrant branch to restore him, you're the only one who can ascend my claymore."

Andre looked down at his anvil, shaking his head.

"Well, that is a shame. I didn't know him personally, but he made fine weapons." He sighed, "Give the ember here, and I'll see if I can do his work justice."

Lex handed over the box and his sword before following Oscar's lead and beginning to unbuckle his armor. The cleric set his newly-refurbished Eastern cuirass aside since they had no twinkling titanite, and then the two of them headed upstairs in their waistcloths.

"Holy shit, is it my birthday already?" Beatrice said, as they came into view, laughing madly.

"Oho! What happened to your armor, you two?"

"Gave it to the smith downstairs," Lex said, turning sideways to hide his shame. "I'm sorry, Siegmeyer, but we need a special kind of titanite to upgrade yours. And technically Beatrice's, but I don't know how you can reinforce robes with metal anyway. Or why you would need a special type for that."

"Hey, kid! Smile!"

There was a flash of sorcerous energy. Beatrice was holding a rolled-up scroll to one eye and waving her staff in her other hand. Grinning like a certain forest cat, she unrolled the scroll to reveal a lifelike painting of Lex in his waistcloth.

"What the-?"

"Don't worry, kid! It's not for myself! I figure I can make some easy souls if I sell it to your spider friend! Unless you want to buy it, yourself…"


	21. The benefits of 50 Int

SEN'S FORTRESS

Leaving the bonfire, the four set out upon a bridge leading through the edge of the forest and toward the massive Fortress jutting out of the cliffside. It was an ugly thing with no real consistency beside the stones, likely mined out of the cliff itself. Atop the squat main body was a mess of spires connected by narrow, crumbling walkways. As bad as the exterior looked, Lex knew it was nothing compared to the horrors of the interior. As the group approached, they found the gate open, with terrible scraping and hacking noises coming from within.

"Well, I don't remember that," the cleric said, tilting his head. "Let me go first and see if anything's different. Everyone stand on either side of the gate so when I trigger the bolt trap, you don't get shot by accident."

"Lex, if it's dangerous, shouldn't I go first?" Oscar asked. "I've got the best shield."

"Oh. Right. I guess, yeah. So right past the entrance is a raised tile that triggers a hidden repeating crossbow. Past that, there should be a snake man with an ultra greatsword on either side of the stairs. Try to lure them out one at a time, and kill the first by triggering the trap while the snake guy's directly between you and the stairs."

"Understood."

Oscar readied his shield and walked cautiously into the dimly-lit room, slowly walking around the obvious pressure plate. He gradually faded to a silhouette as the difference in lighting obscured his features.

"Lex, there aren't any-!"

There was a loud, sharp thud like something blunt hitting steel, followed by a grunt from Oscar and the sound of stone clattering against stone. The trio quickly rushed inside to find pieces of a statue strewn across the floor in front of them. At the top of the stairs, Oscar faced down a statue of one of Gwyn's Silver Knights. It was unarmed and lacked legs, its upper body jutting out of a solid column carved to look like a skirt, but it clawed at the knight's shield viciously while sliding like ice over the floor. Seeing an opportunity, Oscar swung his weighty sword with both hands and smashed the flat of the blade against the statue, sending it tumbling down the stairs to shatter on the stone.

"Something is different, I'm guessing…" he said, sighing and hanging the sword on his belt.

"Well, sometimes the statues are actually Darkwraiths using illusions to disguise themselves, but that does not seem to be the case here, no. Man, this is going to suck."

"Don't lose heart, Lex!" Siegmeyer said, laughing triumphantly. "This is a test to gain admittance to the city of the gods! What sort of test would it be if it let us pass simply because we had a prophet among us?"

Lex grimaced as he kept himself from mentioning the old knight's usual problems with the Fortress. Instead, he just sighed and tried to play it cool.

"Right, so. I know how to get past all the traps, since those probably haven't changed. I don't know where the snake men went or why the statues are apparently golems now, but most of the difficulty is in the traps anyway. Slow and steady, and we'll get through this with no problems. Lead on, Oscar."

The elite knight nodded and continued up the stairs into the Fortress' main chamber. The group stood on a balcony overlooking a massive drop into a pit filled with murky green water and at least one titanite demon. Narrow bridges crossed over the room several times, but massive bladed pendulums swiped over each of them in a deadly rhythm. The rest of what passed for decoration in the interior were only spikes jutting from various surfaces and empty gibbets hanging from the ceiling. There was a noticeable lack of man-serpents.

"This ought to be easy enough without the cobra clerics," Lex said. "Still, I think there were some statues on the far side of the first bridge. Oscar, go ahead and keep in front. Beatrice, let's get ready to blast them so Oscar isn't forced to fight on the bridge."

"Whatever you say, kid," she said a little quietly, staring at the hanging cages.

They tried to stick together as best they could while crossing the bridge, but there was only so much room between the pendulums. Sure enough, once they had crossed the halfway point, a Silver Knight statue slid out onto the bridge. Rather than mindlessly advance, however, it stopped just on the other side of the last pendulum, blocking their path.

"Curse that witch!"

Beatrice tensed and looked around. The scream of a chain unwinding at high speed filled the room, and a gibbet suddenly swung at the group. Oscar tried to back away but tripped over Lex's foot, sending them sprawling onto the floor in front of Beatrice, who did manage to avoid getting entangled.

The cage swung back the way it had come, and the voice spoke again, "No no no! You're too early! Come back another time! Sen's Fortress is closed for remodeling!"

While Lex and Oscar tried to untangle themselves without falling off the narrow bridge, Beatrice and Siegmeyer watched the cage as it swung back and forth, slowly coming to a stop. Inside was a bald old man with tremendously thick goggles. In addition to being confined within the gibbet, he was bound with a straightjacket, but neither restraint seemed to disturb him.

"Go on! Shoo! The gate shouldn't have been open anyway! I told them that using giants would be more trouble than it was worth! You have to explain something to the brutes three times before they remember it!"

"Hello, there!" Siegmeyer responded, seemingly unfazed by the strangeness of the encounter. "Why might the Fortress be closed? I would not mind waiting, but my companions have urgent need to reach the lost city."

"The Fortress is closed because there's four of you! Sometimes an entire kingdom will try to force its way through. That's fine. There's usually only one or two real heroes among them, and they'll kill each other over the honor of going first. But four! The Fortress isn't designed to challenge that many Chosen Undead!"

"What…?" Oscar said, stunned. "The Pardoner tried to kill us because we weren't the Chosen Undead. Now we're all Chosen?"

"Blast," the man in the cage grumbled. "I don't know how that witch Chooses them! My job is to test them when they get this far, but I can't do that when there's a whole team trying to pass tests designed for one! Now get out of my Fortress and let me work! I'll hang a bell outside when the remodeling is complete."

"No way, hombre," Lex said, casually. "I'm not waiting for this place to get any worse when I know I'm just going to have to fight Pikachu and Snorlax a few hours from now."

"I don't know what he means by that," Oscar continued, "but I agree. Please, can't you just let us pass? Is the test really so important, Sir…?"

"Sen! Was it not obvious? This is why the test is important! It weeds out the idiots!"

"My apologies, Lord Sen!"

"Oh my!"

Oscar and Siegmeyer genuflected.

"Isn't that counterproductive?" Lex said flatly. "I mean, you're increasing the odds of getting a Chosen Undead who'll realize this is a conspiracy to light a bunch of dudes on fire. Or worse, a Darkwraith. Literally all you have to do to unseal New Londo prematurely is kill an old man."

The god glowered.

"As usual, flesh is a fatal weakness. Thanks for telling me. After I finish here, I'll see about fixing that."

"You have fun with that," Lex said, edging around Oscar and then the gibbet.

"Oh no you don't!"

Abruptly, the bridge began to sink. Lex instinctively sprinted to the end. If he jumped, he could grab onto the pendulum as it passed and then onto the balcony. The balcony that was packed swarming with golems like they were waiting to buy tickets to the next Iron Man movie. He thought better of it and turned around. Oscar and Siegmeyer had risen, and Beatrice was shaking the god's cage like he owed her money.

"Listen to me, you sack of shit! You're going to raise this bridge right now, or I'm going to have deicide added to my wanted poster!"

"Should have expected as much…" Oscar murmured.

"Fine! Humans are always so impatient! If you insist, I'll personally administer a shortened test sequence, but the final test will be combat with my most fearsome creation!"

"Deal!" Beatrice said, spinning the cage viciously.

At last, the bridge began to sink into the mire. Beatrice grimaced and held up her skirts. Lex looked at his hands vacantly. He really wanted to put on the Rusted Iron Ring, but he also wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to remove the Widow's Ring. He certainly wasn't about to remove Havel's Ring and reduce his roll speed.

Oscar and Siegmeyer had more thoughtful reactions. Since they had managed to avoid Blighttown, this was their first experience with trying to move through knee-deep water while armored. Sen hovered above the water in his gibbet, impatiently waiting for the humans to stop fooling around. Eventually, Lex waded in front of the god.

"So. What are we…?"

"Now that I have your attention… There are four prowling demons on the bottom level of the Fortress. Your first test will be defeating them."

"Oh my god. Just call them titanite demons. And that's a pain in the ass. I don't want to have to keep going back and forth to the bonfire to reload my lightning spears."

"Ah, that's right. If you die during this special test sequence, entry will be forbidden until I've finished the renovations."

There was a massive clang in the distance.

"The door is now shut. I hope you're confident in your skills."

"Boo. Booooo. Boooooo."

"Don't be like that, Lex!" Siegmeyer chimed in. We've been given a challenge by one of the gods! You should relish this opportunity!"

As the old knight chuckled, Lex's thoughts increasingly turned to letting him "run flat up against a ball" later in the Fortress. Oscar was a little more sober, looking over the distant demon.

"Lex, how do we fight these?"

"Uh. Very carefully."

"Lex."

"I honestly don't have much more to offer than that. They're a pain to fight up close. The normal strategy would be to pelt one with magic, then return to the bonfire. Rinse and repeat. Up close, standing right in front of its missing leg is fairly safe, but there's only enough room for one person. It can jump pretty much straight up, so trying to surround it is a terrible idea that's likely to result in us stabbing each other."

He tilted his head back and forth.

"Beatrice, you allegedly have ridiculous intelligence. What do you suggest?"

The witch looked at the demon and then back to Sen. She grabbed the side of the cage and started walking toward the monster.

"Stop that this instant!"

The chain suspending the cage started rolling back, dragging Beatrice through the muck.

"Help me, you muscleheads!"

The men weren't really sure how to react and looked at each other to see if anyone else had a plan.

"You know," Lex said, "if either of you are good at climbing, I bet you could climb that chain all the way to the top. There's a bonfire up there, and I'm wondering if you couldn't just keep activating it to make the rest of us into immortal monsters."

"Oh, if a little younger, maybe," Siegmeyer said apologetically.

Oscar stared at the length of chain intently.

"I might be able to do it, but I doubt we could use the bonfire so conveniently."

"If we can get out of this pit, I can get us through the traps Sen hasn't changed yet, but the only way out leaves us on the starting side. With the bridge gone, we're kind of stuck here."

Lex's eyes lit up.

"Well, maybe not. If I could get us ropes and stuff, do you think we could just climb the outer wall?"

Siegmeyer laughed.

"That, I could do! But between the weight of my armor and my own not insignificant heft, could the rope support me? It's hard to find such equipment in Lordran that has not yet rotted away."

"Spider silk is stronger than steel, and I could probably get us a decent amount."

"Oh, quit pulling my leg!" Siegmeyer continued, chuckling.

"No, I mean, I know a giant spider who could maybe give us some."

"When did this happen? Blighttown?" Oscar asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, I-"

"I won't stand for this!"

By now, Sen's gibbet was whizzing through the air above the trio as some unseen device pulled the cage at high speed, trying to shake Beatrice loose. For once, the witch actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Fine! As recognition of your ingenuity, I declare the first test complete! Now let go of me and stop trying to skip my Fortress!"

"I refuse," Beatrice said, climbing up the side to sit on top. "Now take me to the roof before I stick my catalyst through these bars."

Sen let loose a scream of incoherent rage, but the gibbet did begin to rise. Eventually, the two were completely out of sight, and the three left in the pit had no idea how to continue.

"Sooooo…" Lex started, "do we want to try the spider ropes or just look around first?"

As he spoke, stone columns erupted out of the water, and a ramp slid out of the side of the wall.

"Come now, Lex," Siegmeyer said, sounding like a child in a candy store, "a god is building a test just for us! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Probably somewhere in the Frigid Outskirts," the cleric muttered as he followed the knights up the ramp.


	22. Catarina Jones

The top of the ramp leveled out into a platform from which they could overlook the test. There was a circular grid of pillars with pressure plates on top. In the center was a device of some sort which Lex thought looked like a pitching machine. On the other side of the circle was a platform and a ramp leading up. Directly in front of them were three pillars that they could jump onto.

"I'll go first," the cleric said, holding his sword with both hands and taking some practice baseball swings with it.

He cautiously hopped onto the middle pillar. The pressure plate depressed, and the machine in the center rumbled. After a brief delay, it fired a massive bolt at him. He panicked and jumped onto the right pillar. The plate depressed, and the machine ground to face him before firing again.

"Siegmeyer, quickly!" Oscar commanded, jumping onto the middle platform.

The older knight hustled into action and flopped ungracefully onto the left one. The turret pivoted back toward them, giving Lex time to catch his breath.

"Lex, let's keep it between us! Siegmeyer, hurry to the back. Once I've reached the center, you'll need to take over for me."

"Right!" Lex shouted.

"You can count on me, my friend!" Siegmeyer said, enthused to be helping despite his lack of agility.

Lex started zig-zagging along the right path, cautious about getting too close to the turret that he couldn't react or too far that it caught up to him more quickly. Oscar made a beeline straight for the turret itself, counting on Lex to manage the turret's position for the most part. Siegmeyer didn't have to worry about the turret, but rather his own weight slowing his jumps and making his landings off-balance. Soon enough, the elite knight had reached the platform before the turret. He looked at the mechanisms in search of a weakness.

Finding none, he turned to what he knew best. He hefted the Black Knight sword into some of the spinning mechanisms. There was a horrible shriek, and the machine spat sparks like a blue drake, but it didn't stop. He wrenched the sword out and hooked it back onto his belt.

"Siegmeyer, it's up to you!"

The older knight nodded gravely and turned back to his task. Lex was able to jump quickly thanks to his lighter load and lean body, but for the heavily-armored and out-of-shape Siegmeyer, each jump was a matter of utmost effort. He had to build up momentum carefully before each jump – just enough to make it without rolling off the other side of the platform. Each time he landed, he had to find his footing again and ready himself before the turret spun around and shot the cleric. It wasn't a matter of his own death but that of a companion who trusted him.

Still, he kept up with the younger man until they reached the point where it was faster for the turret to continue turning one way regardless of who pressed the button. He panicked for a moment but breathed a sigh of relief when it turned around again. Oscar had tried backtracking, and it did manage to turn the turret back the way it had come. Now, he was following behind Lex, though taking a path much closer to the center. Eventually, Lex reached the far side, then Siegmeyer, then Oscar, falling flat on the stone as a bolt whizzed over his head.

"You know, if we mess up and fall back down here, let's just send one guy across so we can keep spinning the turret back and forth," Lex said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Oscar grumbled as he dusted himself off.

Lex shrugged and headed up the ramp. He promptly headed back down the ramp, chased by a large blade jutting out of a track on the wall. It soon caught him, but with his speed, instead of cutting him in two, it simply sent him hurtling forward, off of the platform and back into the water.

"I'll spin the turret…" Oscar said, defeated. "Catch your breath for the next one, Siegmeyer…"

The cleric soon reappeared on the opposite platform and began jumping from pillar to pillar as quickly as he could. Unfortunately, this was too quick, and he overshot a jump before Oscar even had to turn the turret around. The following time, he was a little more cautious and made it across safely, Oscar blocking the final bolt with his shield.

"My bad," Lex said awkwardly.

Oscar just shook his head and led the way up the ramp now that its trap had already been released. The next floor was a wide, sturdy bridge providing a clear path to the next ramp. As they came upon it, they saw it was made up of a great deal of square tiles. On the center of each tile was inscribed a letter. Lex groaned.

"This better not be what I think it is."

He approached the bridge, but Oscar grabbed him before he could set foot on it.

"Hold it. I'm not letting you charge in again."

"Fiiiiine," Lex sighed. "If this is the sort of puzzle I think it is, then all we have to do is spell out some god's name. That provides the only safe path across. Stepping on a wrong letter causes the floor to fall out from under you or sets you on fire or something else that's stupid. At least this time, there aren't any vampires on the other side."

"What were you going to try? There are many gods."

"Well, it's hard because normally with these sorts of things, you can tilt the camera so you can see the whole puzzle at once, but now I can't see the end. Anyway, I was going to try 'thousand' since there's a 'T-H' right here, and I always err on the side of bad wordplay. Might be a good idea to see what happens on a failure, though."

Oscar nodded and let go of him as he backed away. The cleric rustled through his bag and drew out the Eastern helmet. He walked to one of the other tiles and gently rolled the helm toward the center. Once it had gone far enough that only the fastest adventurer could jump to safety, the tile did indeed drop out from under it. The trio watched as it fell onto one of the pillars below. Just as before, the turret slowly rotated around and fired bolts into the empty air above the object.

"Why didn't we ever try ducking down there?"

"Forgive us for rushing to save you…"

"Oh, don't be sour, Oscar! It was an honest mistake! If Lex hadn't wandered into the trap, surely I would have."

Oscar shook his head in disbelief. He'd gone from an elite group of knights to a group with no common sense. And that's considering Solaire was their leader.

"Lex, do you have any ropes at all right now?"

"Nope. I do have a bullwhip if we want to make this reference even more blatant."

"We may have to use that. Siegmeyer, what about you? I don't imagine you would have magical bags like the prophet, here?"

"I'm afraid not," the knight said, humming. "Now maybe we would make some ropes by tearing up Lex's old robes, but I will not insist upon such a plan if he is against it."

"I think the whip will be better for our purpose. Lex, give it here."

The cleric once again stuck his arm into the Eastern cuirass' manpurse further than it could physically go, and after a bit of rummaging around, drew out a coiled whip.

"Tie the loose end to your belt. I'll hold onto this end and follow behind you. We can't keep waiting on you to climb back up, so this is a failsafe."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You said 'thousand.' What makes you think that's the solution?"

"Sen is phonetically identical to the word for thousand in Japa- uh, I mean the, uh, thing. I don't want to spend forever trying to explain how I know that. I'm just going to see if I can spell out the word. This angle is terrible, and I can't see the end."

Oscar lifted his head a little and counted.

"It's a good a try as any. Do you have the knot tight?"

"I'm an Eagle Scout; don't patronize me. I know how to tie a bowline."

"Oscar, why not let me hold the whip?" Siegmeyer interrupted as the cleric approached the first tile. "This extra weight I've put on might prove useful for once."

"Ah. Good idea."

Oscar handed Siegmeyer the whip, and the leashed cleric stepped onto bridge. He reached the center of the first tile without incident, bouncing up and down a little to test whether it would hold him. The knights followed, and he moved on to the next one. T-H-O-U-S- Abruptly, the "A" fell out from under him.

He screamed, more from surprise than fear, as the bridge and the air rushed up around him before his path arced. His belt caught, cutting into his side, and he swung back up, striking the underside of the bridge and making a sound like an avalanche of pots and pans. He was dizzy between the sudden swing and bashing his head against stone, but at least he wasn't frantically dodging an automatic crossbow on broken legs. Siegmeyer slowly reeled him in. When he reached the edge, he heaved himself over.

"Are you all right, Lex? We heard the impact from here," Siegmeyer said, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Yeah, I'm just-"

He shook his head as if that would make the pain go away before remembering he could magically heal himself. He swore under his breath and pressed the talisman to his head, undoing the damage.

"I'm more surprised than anything. I guess some of these puzzles did have red herrings. Let's try…"

This time, he walked toward a connecting "E". It held, so the knights followed, wary of another drop. There wasn't one. "T-H-O-U-S-E-N-D" was the secret word, and Lex safely stepped onto the far balcony. As the knights joined him, he looked down and then back up.

"We're pretty close to the top, aren't we? Assuming he didn't move those giant pendulums anywhere, I think we're about back at ground level."

Siegmeyer fell into one of his patented "hmm" cycles, and Oscar took a closer look. The floor above them had been completely hidden by a solid ceiling.

"I think you're right. Let's climb the ramp and see. Behind me this time so there are no surprises."

"That only happened once, man…"

Oscar said nothing but slowly climbed the ramp, his shield at the ready. There was no trap on this one, though, and they reached the next floor without any trouble. What followed was a small room with six other doors lining the side walls and one opposite. There were no windows, and the light came from the same endlessly-burning torches that lit much of Lordran.

"Huh," Lex said.

"Any experience with this one?"

"Not exactly. There's a lot of gimmicks you can do with a room full of doors. We need to go right, right? Where are we in relation to the pendulums?"

"Hard to say. They're louder now, but there's no way to judge. Siegmeyer?"

"I'm afraid my hearing isn't what it used to be."

"Well, let's just assume they're all trapped and start with the most obvious."

They walked further into the room. The middle door on the right was painted red with blood and had torches on either side. A large arrow was drawn on the floor, also in blood, pointing toward it.

"Right, that's definitely obvious," Lex said, looking around at the normal doors.

"I don't think it's that one," Oscar replied, looking at it cautiously. "Those are definitely warnings."

"But from whom?"

"I don't know. Other Undead."

"But they would write with orange soapstone. I don't think they can leave blood like this unless it's their own. And Sen literally just built this. Where did he even get all this blood? Yharnam?"

"Sen's Fortress is a test of worth. That door's purpose is to weed out the fools who rush through."

"Wasn't that the point of the last trap?" Lex said, waving his arms wildly. "This could be a double-trap. When you run into a bunch of paths forward, it's always the unique one that's the real one."

"A double trap?" Oscar said flatly.

"Like, if the first trap got rid of Undead who weren't agile or coordinated and the last one got rid of idiots who rush in alone, then maybe this one does something to people who try everything until it works. Like, each door that opens fills the room with more poison gas or something. I don't know what Sen's capable of other than boulders and crossbows and pendulums and stuff."

"What if that door is the one that releases the poison?"

"What if the poison has already been released, and the discussion about the doors is a distraction?"

"Hmm…" Siegmeyer began.

He leaned against one of the walls in thought but quickly tumbled over as it slid away to reveal a narrow path to what had been the far side of the original bridge. The last pendulum swung overhead, and the Silver Knight statues swarmed on the other side of it.

"Well," Lex said.

"That changes things," Oscar agreed.

Together, they managed to pick Siegmeyer up without throwing out their backs, and the trio looked on at the mob of ready golems.

"We're going to have to plow through a bunch of these guys throughout, so we need to figure out how to hurt them now, before we end up in a room full of them," Lex grumbled.

"They don't seem to be made for combat," Oscar noted. "Still, trying to hit them with a blade will only hurt us in the long run. Andre might as well be in another world. Lex, do you have any blunt weapons in that bag?"

"I've got my old mace for me, this morningstar for you, aaaaand an entire goddamn tree trunk for Siegmeyer."

He set down the first two weapons normally, but for the greatclub, he just upturned his bag and shook it onto the ground, space distorting as the mass of wood slid out of a bag that could barely hold a human hand.

"Oho! It has been some time since I fought with a toy sword!" Siegmeyer said, picking it up and waving it around like it weighed nothing at all.

Lex and Oscar looked at him blankly. He laughed heartily and leaned the club on his shoulder.

"Don't look at me like that. None of the youth these days understand humor. Why one time, my Lin-"

"Hey Oscar," Lex whispered out of the side of his mouth while Siegmeyer was caught up in his story. "Should I mention that his daughter is currently held captive by Seath now or later? I kind of forgot about it until he mentioned her."

"What?! He mentioned her at least once already! Do you actually listen to anything we say or are you still mentally playing the game?"

"I just don't have much of an attention span when parents start talking."

Oscar was lucky he was wearing a helmet, as the look on his face would have given away the private conversation.

"He can't get to her now, can he? You said the Archives are sealed?"

"Yeah, until we get the Lordvessel."

"Tell him then. Let's not worry him now."

Lex nodded and pretended to listen to the rest of the story.


	23. What rings you got?

"Charge!"

Siegmeyer thundered ahead, the tree trunk hung in the crook of his arm like a lance. Despite his slow pace, he had been careful to match the timing and went straight past the swinging pendulum with no difficulty. He crashed into the mob of golems beyond and swung the club sideways, flattening the stone knights against the wall. He held them there while his companions followed after him, closed in, and bashed in their heads. The golems toppled, and the path was clear.

They rounded the corner and hurried up the stairs. The man-serpent cleric was gone, making the path across the pendulum bridge simple. The problem was what lay ahead.

"Yeah, that's actually the statue storage room or something. It's full of them, so we need a plan. We can't just rush in, because that leads to getting shot. I don't like the idea of fighting on the bridge, but do you think you could lure them out, Oscar? There might be something I could do."

"I'm not sure…" the knight said thoughtfully. "They didn't seem to want to leave their posts. Clever things. They know they can just wait for us."

"Hm. Hmmmmm…" Siegmeyer murmured. "What is on the other side of them, Lex?"

"If all the snakemen are gone? Nothing. A small room with a narrow bridge leading outside, to another trap. There's a ramp to the next floor, and boulders roll down at you."

"Oho! Lord Sen has given us an opportunity! Lex, would it be possible for you to outrun our enemies and reach the next room? Oscar could protect the two of us from the trap, and then we could attack them from both sides!"

"That could work, yeah. I don't know about backstabbing rocks, but it's a tactical advantage regardless. You cool with that, Oscar?"

"Yes, I think so."

"All right. As soon as I enter the room, three bolts are going to come straight out of the opposite wall and through the doorway."

"Got it."

The trio made their way slowly through the pendulums. The golems didn't stir as they neared the other side, perhaps trying to be stealthy this time. Lex continued into the room, rolling across the pressure plate. As the golems began to creak to life, he hopped over the one that had fallen to the floor and continued through the doorway and onto the stairs, where they couldn't follow him. They stared at their escaped prey for a moment while the crossbow fired, then turned to the intruders they could reach.

Nine of them were more or less still functional, sliding around their fallen brethren to form a dragnet to prevent any more Undead from reaching the stairs. Two had fallen but were still active, dragging themselves across the stone. One particularly angry golem had fallen so that its arms had shattered, resigning it to rocking back and forth in a fury. Oscar stepped through the doorway, shield high, and the golems closed their trap, tightening their noose around the entrance.

"Siegmeyer!" Lex shouted, walking around the fallen golems to the side of the room. "I'm going to try that new miracle! Brace yourself!"

"A splendid idea! Oscar, I'm giving you some room. Try not to be caught in the blast!"

With that, the older knight carefully backpedaled until he had reached the pendulums. Lex meanwhile aligned himself with the wall of golems. The ones nearest him spun their heads around backward to face him in case he tried to approach. He merely raised his talisman and began a hymn, as he did for the spells native to the game world. This hymn, however, was not in that ancient language of the gods.

_For too long, the human race has ignored the signs. Your planet is nearing destruction. Salvation is reserved for those who pass the test. If you survive, an elevated existence awaits._

Whenever he cast Lightning Spear, the air took on a certain charge. The anticipation was palpable, and there was a faint smell of ozone. Heal brought on a sense of security and warmth. Now, the air shimmered as if from heat, and colors became deeper. There was an indescribable sensation of madness, a taste not unlike when the knowledge of Great Chaos Fireball flooded his mind.

_Initiate phase one._

His armor began to jingle, as when he walked. The modifications Domhnall had made caused the racket to grow even worse. Oscar hazarded a glance past the golems to see what the noise was.

_Power up the bass cannon._

The cone that had been installed into the lion's mouth on his shoulder began to thump slowly, as did the few dozen smaller ones installed in the smaller plates on the armor skirt. The entire cuirass had been changed into a crude speaker system.

_Fire._

Hearing that, Oscar jumped backward, angling his shield to block a solid projectile. Instead, there was a colossal boom that blasted him into the side of the doorway and knocked over the golems, shattering them against each other and the floor.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Oscar shouted. "WHAT WAS THAT AWFUL NOISE?"

"Oh god, did I hit you?" Lex said awkwardly.

"WHAT?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP."

"I turned Emit Force into a sonic blast! It kind of messed up your hearing! My bad!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME WHAT IT DID."

"I just thought it would be a cool thing to show off! I didn't think I'd need to use it before we got to Anor Londo!"

"Don't be so hard on Lex, Oscar!" Siegmeyer said as he approached from behind, spooking the more-or-less deaf elite knight. "I could have given you a clearer warning!"

"FINE," Oscar pouted. "LET'S KEEP MOVING AND SEE IF THIS WEARS OFF. I CAN COMPLAIN LATER."

Lex nodded and grabbed the titanite out of the chest below crossbow trap before continuing up the stairs and across the bridge. He held out one arm to stop the other two as the first boulder whizzed down the ramp.

"Wait here. I need to head up two floors. I'll go up one first, then when I run to the second one, you two head to where I was. Siegmeyer, you'll need to sprint as fast as you can."

"WHAT?"

"Don't worry! I'll make sure the both of us make it!" the old knight chuckled.

Lex nodded and waited for another boulder to roll down before sprinting up to the fog gate blocking the doorway to the next floor. Once another had passed, he dashed upward and into the isolated room. It was much easier now that there wasn't a man-serpent cleric blocking the doorway – or so he thought. Stone ground against stone, and ten intact golems groaned into activity. They slid toward him menacingly, and he dashed across the room, quickly cornering himself.

As they approached, he recited the hymn again. There was an explosion of sound, and most of them clattered against the floor. Two remained, one on either side of the blast.

"Huh. An eight-ten split. This is why I hate bowling."

The cleric gripped his mace tightly with both hands and paced toward one. As the golems closed in, he rolled between them and again to get behind the nearer one. He took a heavy swing and bashed its head off. Before the other could get near him, he kicked the body of the defeated one forward, knocking them both over. Sighing with relief, he retrieved the Ring of Steel Protection from the chest in the other corner.

"Wait. Come to think of it, I've already got two rings. I can't take off Havel's because I need it to move, and I don't think it'd be a good idea to take off the cell phone ring regardless."

He paused and rubbed his chin.

"I wonder if there's anything stopping me from wearing two like in 2. What finger would I even wear a second ring on? Pinky? I could pierce my ears, maybe?"

He paused again and smirked.

"Nipples?"

He shrugged and mindlessly dropped it into his manpurse before heading back down. Oscar and Siegmeyer had dispersed the fog wall and stood in the middle of the room amidst the wreckage of a half-dozen golems.

"You guys alright?" Lex said.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all. I had plenty of room to swing my club," Siegmeyer said pleasantly. "What about you? I heard the boom from here."

"No kidding," Oscar muttered, his hearing apparently back to normal.

"Yeah, I just wasn't thinking," the cleric replied casually. "Since the statues are normally just statues, I didn't even think about there being a bunch up there."

"What next?" Oscar asked.

"There's a pressure plate in that hallway there that will shoot you from behind. Normally, there's a snakeman that blocks you, but now I guess there's probably a statue. In the next room, just go ahead and rest for a bit. There's even a table and chairs. I'm going to take a stupid shortcut that involves less running from giant boulders."

With that, he approached a slit in the wall. A pair of chains ran down a long shaft and were rapidly descending. Abruptly, a bloodied wooden platform shot downward. Before his companions could say anything, he squeezed through the hole and fell onto the platform. It stopped two storeys down in a room with countless statues lined against the wall.

"Oh. Right."

He rolled off the platform and powered up the bass cannon before they could move out of their tight formation. Shattered pieces of statue piled up in the corner, and the cleric relaxed. He turned to stare at a chest lying conspicuously in the middle of the room.

"Not even worth the trouble," he said, walking toward the door.

A boulder rolled past him, then another and another. Ahead of him and to the left was a deep pit in front of a dead end.

"I really wish I had a phone to play solitaire on," he grumbled as he waited for boulders to fill the pit.

Eventually, the hole was filled, and the next boulder smashed through the wall. He quickly ran across the uneven surface, grabbed a Covetous Gold Serpent Ring off of a corpse hanging over a balcony in the next room, and returned to the bloody elevator. He rode it back up three storeys, went up the stairs, across a bridge, down more stairs, and up a ramp to the boulder control room. It was a large, square room with a pillar at the center. Four ramps extended from it in a cross, and there was a long wooden handle extending from its center.

A boulder dropped down from a hole in the ceiling, landed on top of the pillar, and then slid forward, dropping onto the ramp that led back down to the newly-opened room. He walked up to the handle and took hold of it with both hands. It was hard to push due to long disuse, but with a bit of effort, he pushed it opposite the direction he had come. The mechanism above groaned with the change, but it fired the next boulder down the ramp he had just climbed. With a satisfied grunt, he twisted the pillar around 180 degrees, sending the boulders down an unfinished path and out of the Fortress.

He sighed from the exertion and headed back down the ramp to the room where he'd left the knights. Much to his consternation, he found them playing cards.

"Any sevens?"

"Go fish, my friend!"

"Where did you even get cards from?" the cleric complained.

"We used to gamble for the duties no one wanted," Oscar said dully, collecting the cards and putting them in one of his belt pouches. "I take it the path is clear?"

"Yeah, should be pretty easy, assuming saying that didn't just jinx us."

The trio walked up the ramp casually without the threat of an oncoming boulder to pressure them. After entering the control room, Lex immediately turned around and entered a long hallway. He stepped on a pressure plate and took one step backward. Four crossbows in the wall ahead fired at once, three times in a row.

"Lamest trap in the whole Fortress," he commented before continuing.

He entered the next room, made a sharp turn, and headed down a short staircase. Directly ahead was a single golem. It made a valiant attempt to block him, but a sidelong blow sent it crashing to the ground. He turned right and stared out across the main room.

"Looks like there's some more waiting just across this bridge. Siegmeyer, go ahead and take point."

"It would be my pleasure!"

They moved cautiously through the pendulums, but as soon as he was clear, the older knight thundered across the rest of the narrow path and crushed the statues under the immense force of his weight and that of his greatclub. Lex and Oscar followed more carefully, and Lex led them up a curving staircase to the left. Ahead was the final pendulum bridge, and without the man-serpent cleric to cause trouble, crossing was a simple matter. They easily avoided the pressure plate in front of the stairs, but Lex stopped halfway up.

"Siegmeyer, give me a boost."

He pointed up at a platform a bit too high for him to reach by jumping. The old knight nodded and cupped his hands. Lex stood on them, and he lifted the cleric up to the balcony. The cleric waved, and Oscar followed. Between the two of them, they managed to pull Siegmeyer up to the balcony as well, though they both stopped to catch their breath as soon as they had. Panting, Lex pointed and led them down the hall and around the corner. Ahead was a bonfire and their rogue witch.


	24. Lucy, I'm home!

"About damn time," Beatrice complained as the trio joined her.

She was practicing fire sorcery again, something resembling a flame soul spear floating in the air in front of her. As they came out of the hallway and onto the balcony overlooking the Fortress' exterior, Sen's gibbet reeled down from a pulley on the side of the building.

"You already knew how to solve my puzzles!" he said, swinging the cage in front of Lex. "The witch warned me, but only a fool would believe her without confirming for himself."

"Don't look at me," Beatrice said suddenly, glaring. "All I talked about with this idiot was his raging boner for deathtraps."

"Velka," Oscar replied sternly. "Since you seem to have forgotten. Lord Sen, we have already faced one of her Pardoners. You said she was responsible for picking the Chosen Undead. Why is she trying to stop us now?"

The god shifted uncomfortably in his restraints.

"Who knows? I am Lord of Machines, but that wicked witch's machinations moved half of Anor Londo once the Great Lord departed. I can only assume that you're not moving according to plan."

Lex nodded, thinking.

"Since this is a unique opportunity: how do you think this whole Prophecy nonsense is set up? Is Gwyndolin a terrible person as he seems or is he being fooled by Velka and/or Frampt like the Chosen Undead is supposed to be?"

"He?" Sen said, intrigued.

"Oh god, that was a secret, wasn't it? I just kind of assumed it would have been revealed by now, what with his voice having dropped already. Maybe it happened after everyone left. I don't know."

"Machines don't have those sorts of problems," the god hummed. "Machines are honest."

"Yes, well how about you be honest and answer the question, Machine God?"

"I don't know! I tried to avoid the games of divinity. You'll have to ask the…princess…yourself. For now, you have the rest of my tests to contend with!"

Lex groaned in exasperation.

"Right, team. Time for a strategy meeting. There's a lot of boring crap to do in order to finish this place, and since I don't feel like doing it all, we're going to split up."

"Is that wise, Lex?" Oscar asked.

"Eh. We've hit the bonfire. Not much can go wrong. I think I can divide up the work so that no one dies. Like, obviously, I'm not going to ask Siegmeyer to do that stupid suicidal long jump to the other tower."

"Oh," the old knight said, shuddering, "thank you for that."

"You're not going to make me do anything stupid, kid," Beatrice said flatly.

"Weeeeeell…" the cleric started.

"Kid."

"It's not that that task is stupid so much as who else is involved. The task itself is merely tedious."

"Kid, I'm going to count to three-"

"You just have to free Big Hat Logan. He got locked up in one of the cages."

"Ah, yes!" Sen interjected. "One of the conditions that Duke Seath made when he lent me servants to staff the Fortress was that they be allowed to capture failed Undead according to some set of criteria I didn't bother to read. He seemed to be fond of sorcerers and young women. Consider yourself doubly lucky, young witch!"

Beatrice glared at him and flipped the bird but said nothing, so Lex continued.

"Right, so you'll need to backtrack through the Fortress the long way. When you reach a hole in the wall heading back toward the Parish, head out that way. Logan will be in one of the middle cages on the right. You'll need this key."

He rummaged through his bag and withdrew the Master Key. The witch dispersed her fire sorcery and snatched it out of his hands before he even started to give it to her, hurrying down the hallway.

"When you find him, keep backtracking until you get to the first set of pendulums!" he shouted after her. "I'm going to open up a shortcut!"

He paused.

"You know, actually, I wonder if it'll still work since that first bridge was replaced. I didn't think to check."

"I'm not so cruel," Sen said, huffing. "If an Undead is clever enough to discover a shortcut through tests he has already completed, I won't take that from him."

"Cool," Lex said, giving a double thumbs-up. "Let's go, guys. Here're your weapons."

He drew the zweihander and Black Knight sword out of the bag and set them gently on the ground before taking the loaned blunt weapons and stuffing them into the hammerspace.

"I'll point out where each of you need to go when we get there."

"Fair enough," Oscar said.

The trio rose from the bonfire. So too did Sen's gibbet rise slightly. As they began to walk down the hallway back into the fortress, the cage followed, the wall splitting to accommodate a rail from which it could hang.

"Uh, what?" Lex said.

"I was curious about the men who solved my puzzles so quickly. The new ones were makeshift to be sure! Still, your speed was impressive! I thought by following you, I might learn how to make even more difficult ones!"

"Oh, god, no."

"It might not mean much to you, Lex," Siegmeyer started, "but I would relish the opportunity to adventure alongside a god! Come, Lord Sen! I am sure the others don't mind!"

"Of course not," Oscar lied politely.

"Uggggggh. Fine," Lex complained.

They dropped down to the stairs they had climbed to reach the bonfire, and Lex led them back into the open air through the doorway at the top. They were now on the roof proper rather than a hidden balcony, and the shadow of the main tower above loomed over them. The cleric turned left and climbed halfway up a staircase before stopping and holding his hand out to signal a halt.

"Okay, so when I say 'go,' you need to sprint after me. I'll stop at times so we can catch our breaths, but you need to be ready to go again when I say. Also, Oscar, I'm going to point out where you need to go, and you'll need to sprint off in that direction. Got it?"

"Understood."

"Clear as a bell, my friend."

"I wonder. Who should I follow?" Sen added.

"Siegmeyer. Definitely Siegmeyer. Oscar's going to be doing a thing, and you'd have to take the long way to follow me to the other tower since the bridge is out."

"Hmph! Well fine then!"

"Okay, so if everybody's ready… Go!"

Lex sprinted up the rest of the stairs and onto the next platform. The entirety of it was covered in black – scorch marks. From somewhere above, a terribly loud voice grunted, and the cleric wasted no time in climbing another set of stairs to the left onto the next level. Directly ahead was a pair of scorch marks, one with a corpse in the middle of it, and more stairs. He stopped at the base of the stairs and waited for the others, Sen's cage apparently having no difficulty climbing the rail as it bent upward.

They waited a moment to rest, when something suddenly struck the platform below and shattered. A wave of fire washed across the platform and licked over the wall to the one they were on. There was another grunt, and Lex ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. At the top, he spun around and continued to the next scorch mark.

"Oscar, to the right! Siegmeyer, with me!"

They all paused to breathe but then hurried along when they heard the grunt. Oscar followed a straight path along the side of the tower. Midway through, the pattern of scorch marks ended, and some shallow stairs led to a turret where a hollow Berenike knight overlooked the Undead Parish in the distance. He approached it cautiously, but the clink of his armor eventually gave him away, and it turned to face him. It swung its massive flanged mace casually, confident in its brute strength.

Unfortunately, while the mace would shatter a normal man's arm, Oscar had grown used to the durability of his Undead body. The mace skidded across the face of the crest shield, and as the Berenikean spun with the force of its own swing, Oscar used the force of the rotation to hammer his own massive sword into the joint between the breastplate and the skirt. The sword, meant to shatter stone scales and cleave demon bark, had no trouble with a mortal's spine, and slid cleanly through. The body wobbled, and as the knees gave out, the torso slipped back and fell the immense distance to the forest floor below. Oscar looked at the carnage grimly and wondered what a still-sane Undead might suffer from such a blow.

He turned the corner, and seeing a ladder, hung the blade at his belt before descending. A narrow bridge with spikes rising on either side as railing lay before him, and at the end, stairs leading up. He continued to the top, shield raised and sword drawn as he turned the corner. He was forced to step back suddenly, as an arrow struck his shield. At the top of the bend stood another of Astora's elite knights.

The golden pattern on his tabard was worn but still clear – the banner of the royal family. The royal knight drew another arrow on his longbow and fired while Oscar was struggling to react. The shot brought him to his senses. He blocked the arrow and called out.

"Hail! I am Oscar, heir to Hillund before my death!"

"Well met, young knight," the archer said in a thin, old voice. "I am Ricard. Defend yourself."

He slung his bow over his shoulder and drew a rapier with an elaborate golden guard and a simple buckler. He charged down the stairs and lunged at Oscar. The younger knight tried to turn away the blade, but Ricard whipped it back and lashed out at a different angle, piercing through Oscar's side. Oscar tried to put some distance between them, but Ricard pressed the attack. Running out of room to maneuver, Oscar hazarded a kick, sweeping at Ricard's feet to knock him down.

Unfortunately, the older knight hopped backward gracefully and then took a few steps back, brandishing his rapier to guard his retreat.

"Good," he said, a little excitement seeping into his voice. "You are not another fool who follows his teachers without learning. After facing so many, I am proud to call you my countryman."

"Then why are we fighting? Aren't you Undead Prince Ricard, Hero of Falk Vale, Champion of Elston, Leader of the Companions of the Blade?"

"We fight because we must, Sir Hillund. Those same Companions were felled by the guardian of this Fortress. I was cast from the roof. I survived, but I returned to find the others had hollowed. If you cannot best me, then I will grant you the mercy of ending your journey before you fight that monstrosity."

"Prince Ricard, it is not my place, but won't you help us instead? I travel with a prophet, and we have defied fate itself. Surely this is another chance for you."

The older knight grew bitter.

"I too thought much of my fellows. It will avail you nothing. You will perish here, or if you are worthy of conquering the Fortress, you will grant me the honorable death I have wished for long and inherit my blade and the blessings bestowed on me. Defend yourself."

Ricard rushed down the stairs again, but with the additional distance, Oscar ran forward as well, forgoing defense to swing his massive sword with two hands. He swung early in order to head off the range of the prince's lunges' but instead of charging directly forward, Ricard leapt to the side and kicked off the wall. Oscar spun as the rapier ran cleanly through his left arm and bashed the older knight aside with the flat of his blade. Now he had the high ground, though the loss of his left arm meant that he hadn't gained much overall. Ricard shot upward.

Oscar turned his body sideways to hide behind the breadth of his greatsword and swung defensively. Ricard was a moment too late in his evasion, and his sword was batted away. If Oscar couldn't best his elder's superior swordplay, then he would have to try a different tack. Seeing an opportunity, he fell forward and tackled the prince. Instead of tumbling down the stairs together, Oscar forced Ricard to the floor, each step battering the older knight. When they crashed onto the platform where the stairs turned, he rose unsteadily, holding his sword at the ready.

"Yield. I have no desire to slay the legendary Undead Prince."

"So, my vigil has come to its end. That wasn't quite the honorable defeat I wanted, but I suppose honorable thinking may have held us back when the final test demanded our all. Sir Hillund, I entrust you with my blade and with the last of my equipment in the tower above. May the Lords be with you."

The old knight groaned faintly, and his souls flowed out from his visor and into Oscar. The body went flat, and the neck made a creaking noise as the head twisted sideways. It convulsed and then began to rise, the head dangling limply. The hollow turned lazily, but Oscar was ready, and ran it through before it could disgrace the ancient hero's memory. He sighed.

Undead Prince Ricard was one of the great apocryphal heroes of Astora. Tales of his (ultimately unfortunate) journey were often told to children alongside those of the Knights of Gwyn. Having killed such a hero, by accident no less, left him feeling a little empty. He sighed again and clipped his sword to his belt, then recovered Ricard's rapier, which had managed to roll down the stairs a little further. He stared at the body for a moment, slightly disoriented, then knelt down and hefted it onto his shoulders.

He climbed to the top of the tower and entered the lone room. It was mostly barren. There were a pair of chests, apparently containing Ricard's belongings and a number of stone vases of the sort used for decoration in the lands that had been under Gwyn's rule. He peeked inside a few of them and discovered human remains – perhaps what was left of Ricard's Companions. There wasn't an extra vase for Ricard, so Oscar simply laid the body flat on the floor, carefully straightening the head.

He said a brief prayer and turned to open the chests. Among a number of personal possessions, they contained a divine blessing, a type of oil blessed by the Princess of Sunlight herself and used to treat the most grievous of wounds and a rare ring of sacrifice, which warded against the pain of death and curse. They were certainly treasures worthy of a prince. Oscar whispered a silent thank you as he turned to rejoin his allies.


	25. BIG T

"Mm, you seem quite lucid! A rare thing in these times. I am-"

"Yeah, yeah, some Big Hat bigwig from Vinheim. Get moving."

Beatrice had unlocked Logan's prison in a flash and was waving him out.

"I'd love to resume my travels, but I must log a few things-"

"Now, oldie! My shitty prophet says you'll steal Seath's secrets, so get a move on!"

"I wouldn't call it stealing, but yes, I-"

Beatrice reached out and grabbed his hat, adding it to her pile of headgear.

"You give that back this instant!"

She took off running down the ramp. Logan finally left his cage and chased after her. Unfortunately for the old sorcerer, being a fugitive resulted in much more stamina than spending long hours researching. The rogue witch rounded the corner and climbed the stairs. As she crossed the bridge back to the main room, Logan fired a soul spear in desperation, but she ducked under it and continued into the statue storage room.

The golems groaned to life, restored to their prior state by the bonfire. She paid them no mind and continued onto the bridge, sprinting through the falling pendulums. Below, she saw Lex waiting on the far side of a room that hadn't been there when they entered. She hopped down to him.

"Where's that shortcut, kid? We've got to go, now!"

"Did you steal Logan's-?"

"Now, kid!"

He gestured to the open gibbet behind him.

"I don't know how it works, but we just get inside this cage here, and it'll take us up to the top."

"Uh, kid? This fits one."

"Huh."

"Well, good luck."

Before the cleric could react, she'd stepped inside and closed the door. The chain began clanking, and the cage rose into the air.

"I am not going through this crap again!" Lex shouted, jumping to grab hold of the bottom.

The cage itself groaned with the extra weight, but whatever was cranking the chain seemed to be unaffected. As they rose to the level of the second bridge, they saw flashes of blue lights coming from the storage room.

"You know," Lex started, "you might have changed fate so that Logan dies here. You'd think if these cages are more or less magic-proof that the golems could be as well."

"Shit! I didn't think of that! Go back down and help him!"

"You do it."

Beatrice's rebuttal was to stomp on his fingers. Fortunately, she wasn't wearing boots. He actually gripped more tightly as a reflex, and after a few halfhearted tries, she gave up on knocking him off the bottom. Eventually, the gibbet rose through a square hole in the ceiling and stopped in a small room open to the outside on either side. Once the witch climbed out, Lex began to haul himself up into the cage.

Fortunately, the elevator mechanism seemed to be tied to the closing of the door, so he was able to climb onto solid ground without detouring back to the first floor. He led the way up some stairs and out of the room, then up a full staircase to a narrow path. It turned right once and then again, as if walls without a roof between them. They climbed another staircase and turned right yet again before turning left into a large room full of square columns. Oscar was seated in front of one of them, and there was a fog gate behind him, to their left.

Sen, meanwhile, pouted in his gibbet in the middle of the room, rocking back and forth to keep himself amused. After a few moments, Siegmeyer's laughter echoed down from above. Oscar seemed unconcerned, preoccupied with examining an elaborate rapier he'd gotten from somewhere.

"Did Siegmeyer kill the giant yet?" Lex asked.

Oscar looked up at last, but Sen was the one who answered.

"See for yourself!"

"Don't care," Beatrice said, sitting down against another column to reorder her hats.

Lex shrugged and turned to the right, walking up a spiral staircase to the top of the tower where the bomb-throwing giant was located. It was an easy fight, and the giant didn't respawn. He wondered what could have been causing Siegmeyer problems. He leaned out the doorway cautiously to see what the problem was. He found Siegmeyer and the giant sitting together, talking about something in a language that his position as Player Character didn't allow him to understand.

"Oho! There you are, Lex! I was able to resolve our conflict peacefully. I hope you don't mind."

"I…did not even realize that was an option. Paragon points for that. Where did you even learn to speak, uh, Giantish, or whatever?"

"Many years back, trade caravans were being attacked by giants. I relished the chance of combat against such mighty foes as much as my fellows, but I could not slay them in clear conscience without learning their motives. The search for such knowledge was a daring quest in itself! A shame the so-called giants were just bandits fleeing lost Berenike."

He turned back to the giant.

"It seems that I must continue my journey, my friend. I wish you well! Perhaps I will be able to visit you once more!"

The old knight rose slowly and extended a hand. The masked giant was careful as he reached out himself, but Siegmeyer grasped the hand firmly and gave it a hearty shake before heading to the stairwell. Lex waved at the giant awkwardly before heading down.

"We killing this shit yet?" Beatrice complained.

"I just need to do one more thing," Lex said with a grin.

He turned to the last path leading out of the room, this one a bridge leading to an upper room in Ricard's tower. Sen started to say something as he ran out, but he was too focused to hear. Inside the room was a table and chairs but nothing else.

"Huh. Is it because we've already got four people? That doesn't make sense. We could still summon Solaire for the Gaping Dragon fight. Where the heck is Tarkus' sign?"

He looked around fruitlessly, pulling out and putting back the chairs several times as if he would find the summon sign underneath one of the legs. Eventually, he gave up and returned to the others.

"Well, I guess that's that. Let's go ahead and hit the Golem."

"What exactly are we fighting, Lex?" Oscar asked, rising to his feet.

"Iron Golem. This big hulking thing. It might put some wear on our weapons, but we'll want to use our usual ones for this. If we hit hard, we can end it quickly. Just keep whaling on its legs, and it'll fall over. Once that happens, we should be able to beat it to death without much effort."

"What about that shit you said earlier about things here being magic-proof?" Beatrice cut in.

"I don't remember it being any more resistant to magic than it is weapons. Plus, you're so stupidly overpowered that I don't even think resistance is relevant at this point."

"Thank you, thank you, save your applause."

"Other than that, just don't panic at the beginning. It does have a ranged attack that can blow you off the roof, but its opening shot will be deflected by some rubble. Everyone ready?"

"Ready."

"Certainly! I couldn't be more excited!"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Sen looked like he was trying to avoid grinning but said nothing. Lex shook his head and turned to push through the fog. Ahead lay the ruins of what might have been another tower or at least some sort of decorative structure. Even further beyond, at the end of the bridge on the other side, was the entrance to the city of the gods, Anor Londo. The doorway was immense, large enough that a giant could enter while standing on another's shoulders – or at least they could have if it hadn't been bricked up.

There was no sign of a giant-sized golem, though. At last, Sen, hanging to the side of the fog, broke into mad laughter.

"I told you! If you wanted to take a shortened series of tests, the last would be my most fearsome creation! My dear Iron Golem was a test for a single Undead, as was the rest of my Fortress. You!"

He glared at Lex accusingly.

"You know the fatal flaw in that last test! When those part-giant mongrels tried to overwhelm my Fortress, one of them left a summon sign. He survived the final test and went on to Anor Londo, where he had a rather karmic accident. Since the soapstones correspond to a personal chronology, and none of the later Chosen knew that pesky knight had fallen, he helped countless unworthy Undead pass. No more!"

"Well, I mean, losing Tarkus is a little sad, but the Golem was kind of a joke anyway."

"Silence! The witch singling you out means nothing to me! I will perform my duty to the letter! My Golem was too top-heavy, yes! It was deliberate!

You arrogant humans underestimate the effort that goes into designing traps that are difficult without being impossible! The falling over, the slipping off the roof, the missing the opening attack: these were all deliberate design flaws! My ultimate creation has no such mercies! Come, my Black Iron Golem!"

A flapping sound began to echo from below. It grew faster and faster, becoming a continuous roar. From the far side of the platform rose a matte black humanoid figure. It was the size of a Berenike knight, but its armor was notably thicker and heavier. From its back were four massive iron wings beating like hammers, black smoke belching from red-hot exhaust pipes. In one hand was an unadorned ultra-greatsword wrapped in chains, and in the other was a massive greatshield. Set in its chest was a blazing core of dragon bone and unquenchable soul.

"Tarkuuuuus!"

The flying behemoth dove forward with a blast of wind. Lex rolled forward and out of danger, while Beatrice made due with falling flat to the ground, and the knights tried to hold out with their shields. As the Golem swung its greatsword, Siegmeyer's smaller shield proved a liability, the force of the blow bowling him over despite his great strength. Oscar held firm but was pressed back against the fog gate. Seeing it was getting nowhere, the Golem blasted with its wings, pinning Oscar with the force as it shot back toward the center of the platform.

Lex had taken the opportunity of its preoccupation with Oscar to draw a great lightning spear, and now it was nearly close enough to touch. He chucked the bolt before it could react, and the engine on its back shuddered and wheezed.

"Beatrice, try to get behind it!" Lex shouted as he drew up his sword in both hands and confronted the Golem directly.

It didn't give him the opportunity to attack, slamming him to the ground with its shield. Oscar rushed in next, using a ruined pillar as a stepping stone for a leaping smash. The Golem wasn't very agile to begin with, but it didn't even try to block the attack, the blow sliding harmlessly off of its pauldron. It counterattacked by merely raising its sword, the force of the swing sending the airborne knight tumbling backward. Now, Siegmeyer had regained his feet and charged straight for it, zweihander gripped with both hands.

The Golem swept its heavier blade straight down, but the old knight's brute strength was not to be underestimated. While the Golem was hovering, he was more than a match for it, and even managed to push it back long enough to give Lex and Oscar time to rise and flank it. Beatrice, meanwhile, had kept close to the ground, not drawing attention to herself. She eventually rose and flared up her souls, at last unleashing a soul geyser. The splitting soul spears each struck a wing near its base, and the machinery began to shriek and sputter.

The Golem swept its sword in front of it and over its left shoulder, letting loose a length of chain. Suddenly, it twisted in the air, and the blade screamed through the air like a rocket. It struck the witch squarely in the gut and swept her into the air. The projectile soared across the long bridge to the sealed entrance of Anor Londo, where it pinned her against the stone. Oscar swung at the Golem's empty-handed sword arm, but it fearlessly blocked the attack with the back of its forearm.

Siegmeyer attacked its shield directly to distract it, but it seemed unfazed, throwing a hard straight-punch at Oscar. The elite knight blocked it with his own shield, but now he was dangerously close the edge of the platform. Another device began to whir, and the chain on the end of its sword began to wrap onto a spool, drawing the blade back along the bridge. This time, Lex forewent caution and smashed an erupting great lightning spear onto the Golem's back. The engine sputtered and sparked, and the Golem at last fell to the floor.

It swatted Siegmeyer away with its shield and took a step away from Oscar, forcing Lex back. It crossed its arms, and the wings shot off its back and into the cleric, trapping him under the weight. By now, its sword near, so it simply grabbed the chain and jerked it into its waiting hand. Oscar was forced to duck under a swing in order to avoid getting thrown off the roof. He shifted his hips and thrust directly upward into the Golem's armpit. Even that seemed to do no real damage to the Black Iron behemoth, but it did throw it off-balance.

"Siegmeyer! Like Lex said!"

The older knight nodded and rushed into the Golem, taking both of them to the ground. Siegmeyer quickly rolled away as Oscar tried for the third time to sever its sword arm. Unlike the original Golem, this one didn't take such attacks lying down. As the blade began to wedge itself into its shoulder joint, the Black Iron Golem reached up and grabbed Oscar's left arm, crushing the wrist.

"Oscar!"

Siegmeyer whirled around and quickly picked up his sword off the ground. He'd stopped for a moment to lift the wings off of Lex, and now they were rushing to get back into the fray. The Golem itself used the reprieve to rise, throwing Oscar to the side as it did. It started to turn to face the other two but stopped and raised its shield.

"Surprise, bitch!"

Beatrice didn't look particularly well with a sword-shaped hole in her stomach, her body shaking, and one eye twitching, but the constellation of far too many homing soul masses above her head served as ample distraction. She thrust her staff forward to fire a soul spear, and the orbs fired in tandem, creating a river of soul energy that rushed over the Golem. It stumbled backward but resisted toppling over.

"Siegmeyer!" Lex said quickly. "Blast it!"

The old knight quickly drew up his simple talisman and cupped his hands. As he chanted the hymn in a deep bass, a bubble of energy formed in his hands, swiftly growing larger than even he was. At last, he gave the bubble a gentle shove, and it shot forward, causing the Golem to stumble closer to the edge. An even deeper bass followed the knight's gentle chanting as Lex's bass cannon roared and blasted the Golem forward. Still, it seemed as if even that wouldn't send the metal monstrosity over the edge, when Oscar quickly rolled into position and took a golf swing at its shins. At last it stumbled and slipped off the end. The group collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hmmmm…" Siegmeyer began. "What's that sound?"

The chain of the Golem's sword was running over the edge as it fell, but abruptly, the sword itself caught on some rubble. The chain drew taut, and the whizzing noise ended. Now there was a clanking noise.

"Oh god, he's climbing back up," Lex said quietly.

Siegmeyer rushed to wrench the sword free.

"No," Beatrice commanded, seething. "Let me have this."

She pressed her staff through one of the chain links, and the white-red flames of fire sorcery leapt out, rushing down the length of the chain. Oscar watched the Golem catch fire from his place at the ledge.

"Actually, Tarkus is pretty much fireproof," Lex commented idly.

Beatrice glared right through him, so he stopped talking. Eventually, the chain gave out from the assault of heat and weight, and the Black Iron Golem tumbled to the lower Fortress below, smashing through the roof and out of sight. They all waited for a few moments.

"No souls from a machine," Oscar noted.

"Well, you're part right," Lex replied. "We didn't get any from those statues, did we? Not sure how they were animated without souls. Batteries, maybe. But the Golem's supposed to have a core that's basically a makeshift soul.

We should be sitting on fat stacks by now. This can only mean that Tarkus is still alive and has finally triumphed over gravity."

"Then let's find it and finish the job," Beatrice growled.

"Nah. Knocking the Golem off the ledge is still a victory, isn't it, Sen?"

The god was positively livid.

"Of course not!"

"But it was such an obvious weakness after that first hit. You wouldn't give a test you knew was impossible, right? The point of this is to test Undead before they go to Anal Rodeo. I mean Anor Londo. Even an ultimate hard mode boss would have an obvious weakness because _someone_ has to succeed Gwyn."

Sen glared at him.

"Fine. You are correct. That was the intention. You passed with flying colors, you dirty pygmy. Now you have a new problem. The transport demons don't seem to be coming. Another system ruined by using living servants. If the witch would just let me mechanize the whole process…"

He sighed.

"I had best locate my Golem and repair the damage to my Fortress. I'll leave this matter to your own ingenuity."

The god's gibbet slid away on a new rail, descending back into the depths of the Fortress. The humans looked about, trying to think of some way to reach the city of the gods beyond the sheer cliff in front of them. The obvious ring of light was missing, so Lex didn't even know where to start. After a few moments more, Beatrice threw her arms up and walked off.

"One of you shits come get me when you figure something out. I'm not going anywhere messed up like this."

Oscar nodded.

"She has a point for once. I'm no good with only one arm. We could all use a rest after such fierce fighting."

"That sounds like an excellent idea!" Siegmeyer said, already bouncing. He paused and added, "But I will remain behind with you if you intend to stay, Lex."

"No, I'll head back too. I think we've only got one solid option unless we convince Sen to build an elevator, anyway. Remember, guys? Spider thread. Let's climb that mountain."

Beatrice groaned. Siegmeyer's head tilted.

"Okay, fine," Lex said. "We'll make Oscar climb. Then when he's at the top, he'll pull us up."

"Do I get no say?" the knight complained.

"My last physical examination said I have the grip strength of a small child."

"Well, get the ropes if you can, and I'll think about climbing."

As they walked back to the bonfire balcony, Lex extended his thumb and pinky like a phone and held it to his ear.

"You know, they never told me how to make an outgoing call. Hm. Operator, connect me to Quelaag."

There wasn't an operator to speak with, but there was a vague prickling sensation on the back of his neck. After a moment, the voice of the Chaos Witch burned into his mind.

"_Human, so you have contacted me as you said._"

"Yeah! Oh, wait."

"_Whoops, don't want to be one of those people who talk loudly on their phone in the middle of a social thing. But yeah. I mean, I would have preferred to have a regular conversation first, but we actually need a bit of help._"

"_Your shamelessness knows no bounds._"

"_Well, actually, I feel really awkward because this is almost as bad as that time when I – wait, this isn't the time for bad dating stories. The bat demons that are supposed to take people from the top of Sen's Fortress to Anor Londo haven't shown up. I don't really know how your spider-powers work, but do you happen to have a whole lot of rope lying around for emergencies?_"

"_Even if I did, what could you possibly want with rope?_"

"_We're going to make Oscar scale the cliffside and secure a line. It's not like falling to his death is that big a deal._"

"_I'm not sure whether to praise your practicality or call you a sociopath. I only wish I could see the looks on their faces as humans began to scale the walls of their city like insects._"

"_Spiders are arachnids._"

"_You are hardly a spider._"

"_Maybe it's just because male spiders are so much smaller you can't tell._"

"_I won't dignify that with a response. I don't have any thread merely lying around, but I will make your ropes. I will send Kirk to the Fortress when they are finished. Is that all?_"

"_Cool. So, uh, what do you do in your free time? I can imagine caring for-_"

"_I will send Kirk when they're ready._"

Abruptly, the voice faded out completely.

"So is she not interested, then? Siegmeyeeeeeeer! I still don't know how girls work. You're married. Tell me how that happened."


	26. Can you imagine the ganking in Izalith?

Midway through Siegmeyer's story about fighting the entire Carimin army in his underpants to rescue his betrothed from a rival suitor, a thought came to Lex.

"Wait a moment. Sen locked the door. How's Kirk even supposed to get to us? I knew we should have just climbed the Fortress."

"I could rough him up again," Beatrice offered, glad for the respite from the tall tale.

"It is strange," Oscar mused. "We've completed the tests. Shouldn't Lord Sen have opened the gate?"

"You know what?" Lex continued. "He probably can't. There's a giant who opens it on cue. I bet it won't listen to him, except to close the gate."

"No, he said he'd put a new bell outside after he finished rebuilding," Oscar replied. "He must have some means of commanding them."

"Hm. What if we asked the giant to open the gate?" Siegmeyer said suddenly. "The other I spoke with was a pleasant fellow. I'm sure it would be no trouble at all if Lex could guide me to the gatekeeper."

The cleric bobbed his head back and forth.

"Yeah, it's pretty easy. Main problem is that getting there involves a near-fatal jump into that pit we were in. You up for it?"

"Oh please. Falling is one thing all this extra weight will actually help. Oscar, Beatrice, will you join us? I'll understand if you still need time to recover. The bonfire may heal physical wounds, but wounds of the mind can linger."

"I'll be all right," Oscar said, "but I think I'll take some personal time while we're here. I'll walk with you part of the way."

"Later, losers," Beatrice grumbled, staring blankly into the fire.

With that, the three men rose and headed up the Fortress. Oscar separated shortly, heading back to Ricard's tower, so Lex and Siegmeyer continued without him to the elevator room.

"Go ahead and climb inside the cage. It'll take us down to the entry floor. Since we both can't fit, I'll ride on top."

"If you insist. I wouldn't mind waiting on you to come down yourself."

"Nah, it's fine. I'm fairly impatient."

Siegmeyer stepped into the gibbet and closed the door. The cage immediately began its descent, so the cleric grabbed onto the chain and stepped onto the top. The makeshift elevator slid down smoothly enough, though some of the swinging pendulums were a little too close for comfort now that Lex wasn't desperately focused on hanging on. When they reached the bottom, Siegmeyer stepped out first and held the cage steady while Lex hopped off.

"I'm not too crazy about going back into the room of a thousand doors," he murmured as he looked at the last of the new puzzles ahead of him. "If you're cool with it, let's go ahead and jump off here. It won't be as dangerous without the cobra clerics to shoot at us, but we'll still need to outrun the titanite demon on the far side."

"I'll trust in your judgment, Prophet Lex."

"I'm not sure that's a sound idea, but okay."

The cleric took a few steps back, then ran forward and leaped off the bridge.

"I hate this plaaaaaaaaace!"

He landed hard and rolled toward the wall, stopping just short of it. Siegmeyer, with much more momentum, hit it and bounced, actually managing to regain his feet on the rebound.

"Okay, so basically, what we need to do is follow this wall and head into the tiny little room at the end without getting slapped around by that monster opposite it, because fighting that thing is a pain."

"That should be an easy task after passing the rest of Lord Sen's tests."

They pushed forward through the muck easily enough at first, but as they drew closer, the demon raised its catch pole and hurled a bolt of wild electricity at them.

"Do a barrel roll!"

Lex abandoned dignity and began to continuously roll through the muck, knowing well that it didn't affect roll speed. Siegmeyer was more hesitant, but followed suit, his ungraceful tumbling not much faster than his slowed pace. Still, they both made it to the small ladder room without being blasted back to the bonfire. They climbed the ladder to a small room overlooking the initial balcony, but instead of jumping down to it, Lex turned to a bricked-up doorway. He gave it a swift kick, but it was fairly solid.

"Allow me, my friend."

The cleric stepped away, and Siegmeyer rammed it with his shoulder, smashing through on the first try.

"Oh yeah!" Lex cried, following him through the dust and onto the lowest part of the Fortress' roof.

He almost walked straight into the old knight, who had stopped abruptly.

"What is it? This one not as friendly as-?"

The giant tumbled backward, shaking the stone as it hit the floor just in front of them. Something splattered on the pair – blood, it seemed on inspection. Something else thudded to the floor, rolling a bit further after it fell. Siegmeyer's head turned slowly, following it. Eventually, the giant's severed head came to a rest in front of them, nearly as tall as the men themselves, its features obscured by a mask, as with all giants.

A monster turned its head toward the humans and hissed. Eight legs skittered forward, gouging burning holes into the solid stone of the Fortress. The giant's blood sizzled and popped as it evaporated from the heat of the jagged chitin blade. Quelaag flipped a lost strand of hair out of her face as she approached.

"Ah. This saves me the trouble of looking for you. Quelara insisted I come myself, and I dare not aggravate her with her condition as it is. You are lucky to have her favor."

"You- you monster!" Siegmeyer shouted.

"You would do well to inform your companions of your alliances, prophet."

"Uh, yeah. Siegmeyer, this is Quelaag, one of the Daughters of Chaos."

"What quarrel did you have with this fellow, that you needed to slay him so?" the knight huffed.

"I did you a favor, Onion Knight. Anor Londo's chattel are so tiresome to deal with."

"You insult this proud giant and the knights of noble Catarina?"

"Did that insect look proud to you? I saw a brute enslaved to the end of his days. I put him out of his misery. As I have done for many of your kind, Onion Knight."

Siegmeyer lifted one hand toward his sword, but shaking with anger, put it down again.

"Lex, I'm afraid I must retire to the bonfire before I do something I regret."

With that, the old knight clanked off, back into the Fortress.

"Well, that was awkward. I can see why you shoot first and ask questions later."

"What are you saying, prophet?"

"Just that maybe you should have some Servants dedicated to interacting with the rest of the world. So far, you seem to just murder everyone you meet. Which, I'll admit, is very impressive and especially Khornate, but it isn't particularly productive."

"What would you know of such things? If your prophecies are fake as you claim, then you are merely a cleric, no better than any of the others I have slain."

"Hey. My god is fake, but my knowledge is real, if subject to change. There are nine Covenants in Lordran, and hypothetically an unlimited number of Chosen Undead what with all of the parallel timeline nonsense going on. You could harvest a lot more humanity if you made being a Chaos Servant much more attractive. As it stands, the only ones who join are the ones who feel bad for your sister, the ones who want to open the shortcut on the way to kill your mother, and the pyromaniacs."

"What sort of-?" Quelaag began, taken aback by the sudden declaration.

Lex tried out his best Billy Mays impression.

"But wait, there's more! Some Chosen Undead profess loyalty to a Covenant that doesn't even exist, just because they're infatuated with the so-called leader. If you were maybe a little friendlier, you could have so many more Servants. There are fewer loyal Servants than there are Sunbros, and their leader is an inanimate statue for crying out loud."

"What would you suggest, if you're so insightful?" the witch spat.

"Humans are quick to turn on each other, especially for a grand cause. The Darkmoon Blades and the Forest Hunters both have rings that summon the wearer whenever their respective territory is infringed upon. Maybe you could dig up something in Izalith and make some rings that do the same. I'm sure you must be desperate if the majority of your humanity comes from Kirk's fake Darkwraithing."

Now, Quelaag was livid.

"Don't you think if we could do something like that, we would? That ring Quelara gave you wasn't just lying around. It belonged to Quelasa, and why it was entrusted to a human is beyond me."

Lex gulped nervously and glanced around, trying not to look at the Furysword, which flared every time the Chaos Witch spoke.

"If, uh… if you just need a smith, I know where to find one. Both of the Flame Embers are in the Demon Ruins, though you probably already knew that."

"This smith. Where is he?"

"Hidden room in the Catacombs. You've got to fall down the broken spiral staircase without killing yourself. Name's Vamos. Looks like a skeleton with a beard."

Quelaag whipped the sword around, pointing it at Lex's throat.

"Do you swear by this information, prophet?"

He gulped again and met her stare.

"Uh…Yeah. Things have, uh, changed from what I know, but I don't think anything short of killing him and moving the body would cause Vamos to leave his forge."

She drew her sword back and pulled back her hair, revealing a Widow's Ring in her ear.

"Kirk!" she barked. "The prophet says Vamos was playing dead and is presently in the Catacombs. Fetch him if he lives. Inform me regardless; I must _repay_ the prophet appropriately."

"So. You know Vamos? What's the story with him and that helmet?"

"Don't you have a cliff to scale?" Quelaag hissed, still angry.

"Ah… I guess you're right. I was just curious. I'm kind of assuming ordinary time is irrelevant, and the world is waiting on certain events to happen before things move forward, so I'm not really in any sort of hurry. But I guess I'd better not keep everyone else waiting."

"Or perhaps you shouldn't keep the Chaos Witch with the poor attitude waiting."

"What, no! Your attitude is fine! It's just that you kind of murdered me…and probably a lot of other people that could have helped you. You're a little trigger-happy; that's all."

"Where are your companions?" Quelaag asked, ignoring him.

"There's a bonfire on a balcony around back. I guess I'll-"

Before he could say anything else, the drider scooped him up with her free hand and slung him over her shoulder. The spider tensed and then leapt over the corner of the roof. Stone shrieked as the sharp feet dug into the side of the Fortress, then Lex shrieked because he was secretly afraid of heights. Quelaag stomped grumpily around to the rear of the Fortress. Alerted by the noise, Oscar stood on guard while Beatrice simply played with her fire sorcery.

"Hold," Oscar said cautiously. He glanced about for a moment before continuing, "Lex, are you all right?"

"Yeah…" the cleric said nervously. "Just not the type who enjoys dangling a few hundred feet above the ground, even if it means close contact with a hot chick."

At that, Quelaag tossed him onto the balcony.

"How did you become part of this nonsense, knight? You seem to have your wits about you, which is more than can be said about the others," she said distastefully.

"Eat me, bitch," Beatrice interrupted.

"Keep that attitude, and I just might," Quelaag snapped back, her spider hissing.

"I don't travel with _her_ by choice," Oscar said, trying to preempt a fight. "Lex kept me from hollowing. He knows more about the First Flame than anyone else. I'm better off with him than alone. Our last member came along for the adventure."

"Are you aware of what it means to succeed the Lord of Sunlight?"

Oscar nodded gravely.

"Lex has explained it to me. It must be done, and I no longer have a place to return to. If things continue much longer, my homeland itself might not survive."

"A noble enough cause, but will it sustain you?"

"If not, then Lex will be around to pester me back to sanity."

"Hey."

"Yes, it seems he has that effect on people."

"Hey."

Quelaag looked up, eyes following the sheer cliff to Anor Londo.

"We can be formally introduced another time. I have a great deal to accomplish, and I don't want to be away any longer than needed. It was… pleasant… speaking with you, human."

"Likewise. I was hesitant when Lex spoke of involving himself with Chaos Witches, but between Beatrice, Velka, and yourself, you seem to be the normal one."

Quelaag cracked a wry smile.

"Farewell, human."

With that, she climbed around the side of the Fortress and toward the cliffside. Once she was a good distance away, Lex's ring began to hum. He put it to his ear and turned away from the others.

"_How was that for friendly?_" she hissed.


	27. quelaag op plz nerf

While the humans sat at the bonfire, Quelaag was hard at work. Siegmeyer returned in what seemed like an instant, and he and Oscar discussed matters of knighthood while Beatrice practiced her sorcery. For his part, Lex was content to watch Quelaag weave. While sitting at the bonfire, everything flowed hazily like a dream. While he looked directly at her, she moved like normal while his companions slowed to a stop; when he turned back to them, the Chaos Witch became a flurry of motion.

It was the sort of thing a lone Undead gazing only into the bonfire wouldn't notice, he mused. Perhaps that was why the Crestfallen Warrior sat near the bonfire but not at it. Perhaps sitting at a bonfire indefinitely would be an easy way to wait for the end of the Age of Fire, like that scarecrow in Majora's Mask. This set him on the trail of considering what he would have done if he'd been dragged inside other games instead of Dark Souls. While he was distracted by that train of thought, Quelaag had neared the halfway point, a simple but sturdy rope ladder trailing down the cliffside.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. Lex looked up, wondering if some high-altitude wind had finally moved the clouds. What he saw was a murder. A horrible mass of giant crows like the one that transported prisoners from the Asylum were descending upon the Fortress.

"Everyone, get up, now!"

As the others broke from their timelessness and looked up to where Lex was pointing, the crows stabilized above the Fortress, forming a vortex that shadowed the entire rooftop. They were far too high for even Beatrice's cheating range to hit, but they didn't seem to be interested in the Undead. Within moments, they were breaking off in pairs – one would harass Quelaag while the other would pick at the ladder. The birds were cautious and fled before the Chaos Witch could get in a solid hit, but there were enough of them that she wouldn't stand a chance if they made a suicidal charge.

"_Quelaag, get out of there!_" the cleric whisper-shouted into his hand. "_We can think of a way to kill the crows and try another ladder when they're dead._"

"_Quelaag will not flee from Anor Londo's childish tricks_," she huffed.

"_Look, I'm just saying that losing a girl __**before**__ the first date is bad even by my standards._"

She didn't reply, but she leapt from the cliffside and into the open air, just beneath the murder. Some of the crows broke off to dive-bomb her while she floated helplessly, but as they closed in, a sphere of pink energy exploded around her, vaporizing them. As she fell, she whipped out a part of the ladder she'd been working on and flung it upward, grabbing a number of the birds. Their mad struggle for freedom slowed her descent, and she threw them to the roof at the last moment to cushion her landing. She rose amidst the sound of breaking bones just in time for the humans to arrive.

"Holy crap, that was awesome!" Lex said.

"Perhaps a bit brutal," Siegmeyer added, still bitter about the giant.

"True, but we're better for it," Oscar said with an air of finality.

Siegmeyer took the hint and stared up at the crows silently. Beatrice complained under her breath about how many more she could have killed if she'd been within reach.

"I do hope you have a plan, Prophet," Quelaag said. "I dare not remain here long now that Anor Londo is aware of my presence."

"Actually, I have the impression that what's left of Anor Londo is just as ignorant as we're supposed to be. No blue phantoms yet."

Quelaag winced.

"Pray you are wrong, Prophet. Even the Lord of Sunlight was wary of the Raven-Haired Witch. I don't wish to imagine what she could do with no one to stay her hand."

"What if I told you she's already been messing with us?"

"Then I have no reason to remain here. I will not endanger my family by involving myself in a feud with that monster. I wish you the best of luck."

"I, uh, understand, I guess," Lex said, sighing.

"You make an excellent couple," Beatrice jeered. "I knew spiders didn't have spines, but what's your excuse, Lex?"

"You dare insult Quelaag, human?" the Chaos Witch spat, flames venting from her spider body's sides.

"You're just the guardian of a Bell, bitch. Old news. We should have just killed you so I wouldn't have had to sit through all that touching family shit. We've been sucking down souls throughout this stupid-ass Prophecy and becoming more powerful. I could probably kill you with both hands behind my back by now."

"You insolent-!"

"Oh, what's wrong? You going to self-destruct just like mommy dearest?"

Quelaag faltered but then snarled, "How do you know that, human?!"

"I have my ways."

"Prophet!" Quelaag roared.

"I didn't-"

"This is not the time for that!" Oscar snapped. "Witches, figure out a way to get us up there or shut up! Lex, what do you know about Velka?"

Beatrice looked furious for a moment but then smirked. Quelaag's Furysword burned white-hot, but she held her tongue. Lex glanced back and forth between them, wondering how much of the Witch's ultimate fate was a secret anyway.

"Basically nothing," he began. "She was more or less removed from the ga- uh, history. Most of her domain passed to Gwyndolin or his domain was naturally similar to hers or something. Her demons and a now-dead Pardoner got sealed away in the Painted World.

"Well this is great…" the knight groaned.

"Hey Beatrice, can you fly?" Lex said suddenly.

"That broomstick shit is a dumbass legend."

"I meant in general. No super-jumping either?"

"Kid, are you all right? That sort of magic is all fairy tale shit."

Lex shrugged.

"So is most of this. We're in Lordran for crying out loud. There's a drider standing beside me."

"A what?"

"The thing that Quelaag is. Spiderlegs. Speaking of which, Quelaag, can you fly?"

She glared at him. He waved his arms in the air.

"I'm not a physicist. I don't know how much thrust is necessary, but I thought maybe you could if you shot a bunch of fire at the ground. It would have been awesome, like that Gundam horse."

"I'm going to stop you before you ask if I can fly," Oscar interrupted. "We need to consider a different solution."

"Oho! Maybe not, Oscar," Siegmeyer said. "We have passed Lord Sen's tests with valor, and he has given us permission to continue to Anor Londo. Could we not ask him if he would send his flying metal guardian to disperse these troublesome birds?"

"That… might work," the other knight agreed. "I don't want to go back into the Fortress if I can help it. That might be the only option. Lex?"

"I'm still super disappointed that Beatrice doesn't have the super-jump, partially because that was one of the best parts of Morrowind and partially because she's halfway to being a hacker already, so she might as well go all the way."

"Lex, focus."

"Not sure what we could do, honestly. None of us are any good at archery. We could maybe try to make a deal with Alvina and get that fake Pharis to help us. I'm more worried about what will happen if we get past this, honestly. I don't even want to imagine crossing the archer bridge while being attacked by crows."

"Well, Lex," Siegmeyer said, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Oscar groaned.

"I should have just hollowed in the Asylum."

He crossed his arms in thought and looked up at the swirling vortex of feathers. At last, the final anchor point had been picked away, and the ladder fell to the roof in a heap. It probably wasn't damaged much, but trying to fight the birds while climbing was a death sentence. He sighed and at last turned to Quelaag.

"You fought the everlasting dragons. How is it that Undead and giant crows are a threat to you?"

"Lex, take note. This knight is my favorite human already," she mocked.

"I was trying not to judge, because honestly, Mildred murders you really easily. Like, I could actually do something else during the fight and just look over occasionally to see if you were dead."

"Yet I bested you twice."

"Excuse me for not being able to fight and seduce you at the same time."

"Focus!" Oscar interrupted again.

"I apologize," Quelaag hummed. "I should mature enough not to play with my food. To answer your question, I must admit my sisters and I have all grown much weaker since we fled Izalith. Weak enough that it is as you say – it is not altogether impossible to be bested by Undead adventurers. I dare not provoke Velka's wrath because even together, we would be no match for her if she saw fit to destroy us."

"You know more about her than Lex, then?"

"Perhaps. I know little more than anyone else who knew Anor Londo in its prime, but that seems to have been an eternity ago now. She was a sort of monster. Her priests didn't believe in her so much as accept her as fact. She required no offerings or prayers. Wickedness itself seemed to sustain her.

Deicide is the greatest of sins, so the execution of deities was reserved for her alone. So terrifying was the shadow she cast that she never needed perform that duty. The great crows and the crow demons were her servants, though their origins are-"

Lex had raised his hand.

"What?" she sighed.

"I know! The crow demons were her most fanatically dedicated servants. I don't know about the crows or whether Snuggly is one of them."

"Thank you for that irrelevant tangent. Let me conclude by saying that the Lord of Sunlight was the only god who would openly stand against her. If there are no gods left in Anor Londo to so much as slow her down, then you face a grave enemy indeed. I will take my leave before she counts me among you."

"Bwuck bwuck!"

Quelaag had turned to leave when Beatrice began making chicken noises. The Chaos Witch's glare could melt stone.

"I'm sorry," Beatrice started. "It's just that since we were talking about birds already…"

"Quelaag will not be mocked."

"Then what the hell have I been doing?"

Quelaag took a deep breath.

"Lex, are you willing to make sacrifices for this relationship?"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, that's part of any relationship, right? I don't-"

"Good man."

She scooped him up and drew him close.

"This is kind of sudden, I-"

Abruptly, she bit into his neck. He tensed at first but quickly relaxed and then grew limp as the color drained from his face. After a long moment, she dropped him. He stumbled but remained standing.

"That's not how I imagined necking would be like at all," he said tiredly before he slumped against a wall and sat down.

Quelaag snorted.

"I get it now, though," Lex continued. "Just like a Chaos weapon. You're not very powerful without humanity. You need humanity to live, don't you? I always wondered why the Daughters were pushovers compared to the Four Knights."

In response, the loose wreath of flame hanging over her spider body roared into a flowing mane, the jets that occasionally shot from her legs erupted continuously, and the Furysword's aura thickened and grew to extend well beyond the blade itself.

"Wait, is that a thing you can learn?" the cleric coughed. "I want to be the Burnt Ivory King too."

The Chaos Witch ignored him and stomped toward Beatrice, dripping molten stone as she walked.

"Siegmeyer, I think we should-" Oscar started.

The older knight had interposed himself between the witches.

"Now see here, you fiend! From the moment you arrived, you have been nothing but violent! I don't care what sort of pact the good prophet may have made with you, but I am bound by no such restrictions! I will not allow you to harm another of my companions!"

Quelaag cackled and brandished the Furysword idly.

"You are brave and loyal, if a fool, Onion Knight. I can respect that, perhaps."

She craned her human body to look over him. Her eyes were glowing coals now as she met Beatrice's overconfident gaze.

"Watch, little human. Behold what it truly means to be a witch."

Siegmeyer swung his zweihander defensively, but Quelaag leapt backward. Before the knight could close the gap, she turned and lunged onto the cliffside, storming up toward the looming vortex of crows. A few broke off cautiously and tried to knock her loose from the stone, but she didn't so much as slow down. Her crooked spider legs bent in strange ways, reaching around to impale the birds against the cliff face as she ran. As she came in line with the murder, an arm of the storm reached out to brush her off the cliff despite casualties.

Rather than wait for them, she kicked off the wall with a burst of flame, shooting through them like a meteor. As she fell, her spider sprayed lava in a circle, sending a dozen crows shrieking to the ground. Instead of simply tumbling through the air, she swung toward the cliff again on a thread she'd stuck to the wall when she jumped. As she neared it, she shot another jet of flame to angle her swing sideways and broke into a dead sprint with the extra momentum. More crows came at her, but without the extra speed from dive-bombing, they couldn't reach her before she had climbed above the flock.

Higher and higher she climbed, until she had left the cliffside entirely and climbed onto the top of Anor Londo's lower wall. The humans lost sight of her for a time as she ran from one side of the parapet to the other, anchoring threads in the crenelation, before she took a running jump into the open air. As she descended, crows slowly rose from the mass to attack her, but she dodged their attacks by jetting to one side or the other and hacking through them, the Furysword cutting a burning line through the sky. As she reached the end of her line, she arced downward, falling straight into the heart of the murder. Her body was buffeted by crows shooting past, but as they tore into her body with wing and beak, her wounds themselves fought back, lava spurting out to send the offending birds hurtling toward the ground.

Quelaag raised her Furysword high, its corona growing larger and brighter, and the maddening signs inside the flame becoming clearer. The spider roared and yanked hard on one of the lines suspending her, causing her to spin as she swung her sword. The living blade spat lava as it cut, spraying through one crow to cover the next and the next. The lava leapt from one bird to the next, branching through the air and piercing through the solid mass of feather and bone like the roots of a tree burrowing through stone. As the Chaos Witch spun gracefully through the vortex, a glowing sphere of molten stone grew around her until the storm of birds had become a single planetoid rotating about her.

At last, she swung through the bottom and latched onto the wall once more as the manmade meteoroid began to fall itself. She watched in wicked satisfaction as the mass of rock and dying birds crashed upon the Fortress' towers, shattering them and itself. The cut stone of the Fortress, glassy bits of hardened lava, and the torn remains of countless crows were strewn across the battered roof.

"_I'm okay, thanks for asking,_" Lex complained into the ring.

Though some dust and small stones covered them, especially on Beatrice's stack of hats, the humans emerged from the Fortress unscathed thanks to the narrowness of the hallway next to the bonfire strengthening the ceiling. As they climbed back onto the roof, the scraping of metal on metal and the jingling of chains echoed in the distance. Sen's gibbet shot up on the side of one of the pillars surrounding the Golem arena just as the humans and the Chaos Witch reached it.

"What have you done to my Fortress?!"

The spider hissed.

"Machine god!" Quelaag spat. "I would never have thought that you would throw your lot in with that monster. You were one of the tolerable ones."

"It was the Great Lord's final decree that the Prophecy be fulfilled! It was others who let her wrap her black talons about it."

Her glowing eyes burned into the god's thick goggles. After a moment, she spoke again.

"Let's say I believe you. Why should I refrain from killing you, if only to deny her a resource?"

"I'm just here to fix my Fortress! Unless you intend to keep running back and forth through it, you'll never see me again."

He looked around at the rubble.

"I might be here until the Fire dies at this rate."

"You may have helped us, but I won't stand idly by and allow you to kill Lord Sen," Siegmeyer rumbled, still ready to fight after their last encounter.

"_Hey Quelaag_," Lex said suddenly. "_Since you're worried about Velka attacking your sisters, why don't you try to convince Sen to build a Fortress down there too? It would be like Minecraft, except the spiders would be a good thing._"

She grimaced, trying to balance her resentment of the gods with the practicality of the idea.

"Machine god," she said at last,"since the accident that claimed my mother and my home, I have hunted Undead. I suspect you perform your duty out of love of your devices as much as any loyalty to the departed Lord of Sunlight. I hardly share their view, but my sisters have great faith in this particular human. This prophet insists that we shall soon reunite with a talented smith. Stone, titanite, a smith.

Ruined Izalith has plenty of resources for you to play with. Won't you believe in this fool prophet as well? That now is the last time this decaying Fortress will be necessary? Surely it's safer for you to disappear from Velka's sight entirely?"

"You had me at smith! It's so annoying working with broken materials!"

"Excellent," Quelaag said, smiling wickedly. "Allow me a moment to finish what I was called here to do."

She returned again to the cliffside. Instead of climbing it, however, she flared up her Furysword. She pressed the blade to the sealed gateway, the white-hot blade melting the bricks to slag. Now, she climbed up the side and all the way around, drawing the sword around the edges of the frame. When it was done, she withdrew the blade and slung the liquid stone off of it and into the chasm below.

The spider kicked with its frontmost legs, and the slab toppled inward, revealing a dark but elaborately-decorated passage leading up through the mountainside. The Chaos Witch returned to the humans with a smug look on her face. Beatrice was pouting, but the others were impressed, even if it was begrudgingly for Siegmeyer.

"If the other side is sealed as well, you may need to find your own way out. I'm sure I will be quite busy soon."

"Better than climbing, at least. Thank you," Oscar said.

"I suppose I must give my gratitude as well," Siegmeyer added, nodding.

"Yeah, you really-"

Quelaag stooped down as close to Lex's eye level as the spider could get.

"No, you are the one to be thanked, even if I did help myself. I can't remember the last time I had a proper meal."

She leaned down and licked his cheek.

"It was delicious."

With that, she turned back to Sen. In a flash, she slashed through the chain suspending his gibbet and snatched the cage out of the air before it fell, tucking it under one arm.

"Farewell humans," she said.

"Good riddance!" Sen added.

Without another word, she scurried down the side of the Fortress and was gone.

"I'm not sure how to feel about this," Lex said, holding his cheek.


	28. Just like Mario 64

The tunnel fortunately seemed to be a straight shot up. There were a number of side passages that upon casual inspection ranged from guard posts to overnight rest stops for the gods themselves, but the main path led ever upward. The lamps were all long-extinguished, but as soon as they'd left the light streaming from the entrance, Beatrice raised her staff and emitted a small glowing orb that lit their way.

"Hey Beatrice," Lex said after a while.

"What?"

"So what everyone calls 'sorcerers,' I'd call 'wizards.' Specifically, they have a long list of spells and have to choose which ones they want to use on each adventure while they're resting. I don't think you're the type to sit down at the bonfire and say 'I think I'll need to cast Light while climbing a spiderweb to the city of the gods.' Now, there's another kind of mage that I _would_ call a 'sorcerer' which has access to all their spells at all times. Are you that kind of sorcerer?"

"Uh, kid. That's what a witch is. Instinctive use of magic and power rooted in emotion. Only reason that bitch was able to…"

She droned off into a rant about how she could have wiped out the murder if she'd been angry enough, and the group was quiet for a while after that. Eventually, the silence grew oppressive to Lex, and he began singing.

"There's a lady who's sure… All that glitters is gold… And she's buying the stairway to heaven…"

"Kid, no."

"What?"

"Don't you give me 'what'?"

"What?"

"You're completely tone-deaf, Lex," Oscar said quickly before Beatrice started ranting again.

"I'm not that bad."

"You are," Oscar and Beatrice said in unison.

They both jumped a little and glared at each other. After an awkward moment, Beatrice rolled her eyes and turned away.

"I'm afraid it's true, my friend," Siegmeyer said apologetically, putting a hand on the cleric's shoulder. "Don't take it to heart."

"Slaanesh is the god of music. I didn't even know how to fight before I woke up in the Asylum. I just kind of thought…"

"Your god's a dick, kid. Just like the rest of them."

"Well, I guess Slaanesh is also the god of bad music. There goes my plan for saving Lordran with the power of rock and roll. I guess I can change the plot but not the genre."

The rest of the climb was without incident. Sure enough, the end of the tunnel was bricked up, though a much nicer job had been done on this side.

"So how do we get through?" Lex asked. "Beatrice, you get any big booms from Quelana?"

"I'm more of an anti-personnel girl," she said, shaking her head.

"The gods didn't expect anyone to reach this point, did they?" Siegmeyer thought aloud. "Hmm… Hmm… Perhaps this wall is thinner than the first. The gods themselves would have other means of leaving their own city. This wall might only hide the sealed entrance. In that case, it wouldn't be much of a wall at all."

He removed his helmet and pressed an ear against the cold stone, tapping it with his knuckles.

"Oho! 'tis a simple matter, then."

He slung his helmet back on and backed up a few steps. He thundered forward and rammed his shoulder into the wall, nearly running straight into a bonfire.

ANOR LONDO

"Oh yeah!" Lex shouted.

"Hm?" Siegmeyer began. "You said that when I broke down that wall in the Fortress as well. Does it have some special meaning."

"Uh. It's basically just something that you say when you break through walls. Explaining it would involve a lot of context. I'll tell you later."

"There may not be a later for you," a feminine voice said.

A knight in golden armor stepped between Siegmeyer and the bonfire, one hand on the hilt of her sword. Her body was tensed to attack, but she held her ground as the others entered.

"_An_ Undead will be Chosen. One. The Prophecy must be fulfilled to the letter. The rest of you may return if the first fails in his duty."

"Yeah, Sen said more or less the same thing, except he just made his Fortress more obnoxious instead of trying to kick us out. I mean, he did try to kick us out, but that's because he wasn't done messing with the Fortress. I mean, how does this test even work? Is there like a vault of Lordvessel copies that you give out to Undead one at a time so they think they're special? How do you mass-produce Ornsteins?"

"Strange," she said, tugging at her sword gently. "You know of things no candidate ought."

"I am the prophet of Slaanesh, brought from the land of Luthor to the Asylum to fulfill the Prophecy and blessed with foresight regarding its completion. I have seen every possible outcome and know that all of them are irrelevant. Countless Undead will succeed Gwyn until the so-called 'true monarch' arises in Drangleic ages from now. If I want to make friends on this stupid suicide mission, I believe I have every right to do so."

The knightess was perfectly still for a few seconds. Eventually, she sighed and slid her sword all the way back into its sheath.

"You may be bluffing, but if your god did give you such insight, then the Prophecy may already be undone," she said tiredly. "Be aware that should you try anything foolish, I shall expunge you along with your mistake."

"I solemnly swear not to throw Gwyndolin out a window no matter how obnoxious he is. I make no promises for Beatrice."

"How dare you even consider-!"

"But he's got the scroll of Sunlight Blade!"

"Lex!" Oscar said, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"I just don't like this whole Prophecy thing, and Gwyndolin's kind of the main dude. I mean, I'm pretty sure Nito _wants_ to be killed. If the gods actually helped out instead of setting up elaborate tests, I kind of feel like the First Flame would have already been stoked just through the sheer volume of bodies thrown at it."

"It is not our place to question the will of a deity."

"You're just saying that to cover up the balloon-titted illusion at the end of this train wreck."

The knightess drew her sword in a flash.

"I will allow no disrespect to the Princess of Sunlight, absent or not."

"You didn't even know her, did you?"

The knightess tightened the grip on her sword.

"Calm down, madam," Siegmeyer cooed. "I'm sure Lex does mean to offend. He's at that rebellious age, I think."

"Actually, that wasn't half-bad. The kid did good," Beatrice murmured.

Oscar hushed her as Siegmeyer continued to try to calm the knightess down.

"Madam, you have my word as a knight of Catarina that no harm will come to Lady Gwyndolin while my body draws breath."

"So we have a ten second window immediately after a jog," Beatrice snickered.

This time Oscar outright elbowed her, but the knightess relaxed and sheathed her sword.

"If you require rest, now is the time," she said, stepping away from the bonfire.

The group all attuned to the bonfire, but they continued up the stairs from the small room where they had entered and into the eternal golden sunset of Anor Londo. Directly ahead was a balcony with a covered roof. Lex led them over to it, stopping in the middle of a circle of white tiles. Siegmeyer nearly continued ahead to look at Gwyn's castle beyond, but the cleric stopped him as the platform rumbled and began to sink. It began a long descent. At the bottom, they stepped off quickly and continued down a spiral staircase to a large entryway sealed by a fog gate.

"I honestly don't get the stairs. Sure, it's nice and impactful, but it's got to be a pain in the ass for anyone who has to come through here more than once."

Oscar wasn't amused.

"Lex, what about what's behind this fog?"

"Just another gargoyle. This one shoots lightning instead of fire. No big deal."

With that, he pushed through the fog, and the gargoyle started running toward them on all fours. The men charged down the stairs to the street while Beatrice yawned and spun up a Great Heavy Soul Arrow. The gargoyle swatted its wings and leapt into the air, swinging its halberd overhead at Beatrice. Oscar deliberately threw his foot out from under him and rolled back, shooting to his feet just in time to catch the blow on his shield. Siegmeyer, meanwhile, had braced his zweihander and spitted the creature as it landed.

Lex, fastest of the three, had run right under it, and he spun around to strike at its tail. It lashed its tail axe at him, but he rolled under the blow and struck again, hacking it off and sending it skittering across the paving stones. As Siegmeyer withdrew his sword, Oscar lunged forward alongside Beatrice's soul arrow, and the two struck at the same time, felling the beast.

"That was mine," Beatrice said quickly.

Oscar simply sighed.

"This way," Lex said, already on the move, half the gargoyle's tail hanging out of his bag.

He walked around the stairs to a narrow path, then hopped down to a second path a storey below the first. He took a deep breath as he climbed onto the buttress of a nearby building and slowly made his way toward the top. When he reached the building itself, he clambered down a column beside the buttress and onto the balcony beneath. Oscar and Beatrice joined him without much concern, but Siegmeyer took his time, walking on all fours to avoid balancing his tremendous weight.

"Funny thing is, there's no door leading to this balcony," Lex said. "Why does it even exist? More test trickery? You enter through this broken window here, but the broken glass is on both sides. Arbitrary mysteries!"

"That is strange," Oscar agreed casually as they entered.

"Hold on for a second," Lex said, holding out one arm.

A white-robed, masked figure wielding two short curved swords leapt down from the ledge above, but Lex hacked it in two before it could recover from its landing. He turned and ran to the other side of the room, where another painting guardian waited. It threw a knife at him, but he ducked under it and ran it through.

"Right," the cleric said, rejoining the others, "Beatrice, this is your time to shine."

"I like the sound of that!"

"I need you to climb that ladder, then cross the series of narrow support beams while shooting all those ninja Klansmen before they throw knives at you and knock you off."

Beatrice flipped him off.

"Right. Oscar, you do it, then."

The knight sighed.

"Fine… Give me that halberd."

He handed Lex his own sword and took the polearm before climbing the ladder against the wall. Sure enough, the support beams were narrow – much too narrow for his liking, as they forced him to take a narrow stance that undermined his stability. Sure enough, it wouldn't take much more than a clever throw of a knife to send him off-balance and several storeys to his death. Worse, the beams themselves formed a hopscotch pattern, alternating between pairs and a single beam at harsh double right angles. Oscar swallowed and set out cautiously.

He made the first two turns easily enough, but as he neared the end of the beam he stood on, one of the guardians began to approach. Oscar hazarded speeding up a little, making one turn and then another onto another parallel beam. The guardian had reached the opposite end at the same time he had and quickly threw a knife. The knight held his ground and deflected it with his shield before continuing. The slight figure made no move as he approached, but at the edge of his halberd's range, it leapt forward, swinging its paired swords.

Oscar shifted slightly, careful of his footing, and swung the halberd lightly, nudging his flying assailant past him and off the ledge. He sighed and continued to the a reinforced platform surrounding some sort of chain.

"Cut it down!" Lex shouted from safety.

The knight rolled his eyes inside his helmet but did so, sending a chandelier crashing to the floor many storeys below. He continued along the mirrored set of parallel beams, hazarding a faster pace to outrun the next guardian. He reached the singleton, but this enemy held its position, throwing knife after knife at him. Blocking was simple enough, and when he reached the end of the beam, he easily knocked this one off as well. Unfortunately, the final guardian charged right for him. Taking a risk, he swept his foot out wide, following the meeting of the beams as he swung the halberd backward to send the guardian hurtling to its doom.

Two more turns, one more beam, then a final turn, and he was on the opposite side. The others had already begun their own crossing, Siegmeyer once more inching along like a steel caterpillar. Once they had all made it, Lex's eyes opened wide.

"I could have just given you instructions. I didn't actually need to go in there at all. Ugh. I nearly had a heart attack crossing, and I didn't even have to fight the guardians."

"Suck it up, kid," Beatrice said, heading outside without the others.

Straight ahead was a short bridge connecting to an even shorter bridge extending from a broad octagonal platform that overlooked the city. In the center of the platform was a belvedere with some sort of device beneath it. Lex approached and pointed toward Gwyn's castle and down. There was another gargoyle, this one without a tail.

"Can you get that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Beatrice said, waving him away.

She raised her staff and fired off a soul spear, shattering its head.

"Cool," Lex said before approaching the device.

There was a lever extending from one side, and he grabbed hold of it, pushing forward with all his might. The viewing platform shuddered and then began to spiral downward several storeys, stopping when the bridge they had just crossed aligned instead with the road to the elevator. With the platform in place, the road to Gwyn's castle was open. Oscar turned to go, but Lex shook his head.

"Detour, hombre."

He pushed the lever forward another quarter-turn, and the platform descended still further. Once it had stopped, Lex crossed the bridge they had come and climbed the stairs to enter the building they had just left, but on the main floor. The massive room was full of the white-robed guardians, though some of them had been crushed by the falling chandelier.

"Incidentally, this is why they're called 'painting guardians.'"

The chamber's width was divided into three parts by two rows of massive columned supporting the arching ceiling. These rows framed either side of a massive painting on the far wall, which stretched to the platform where they had originally entered. It depicted a fortress rising above a snowy mountain forest, an old wooden bridge extending into the foreground.

"Yeah, I don't feel like dealing with these guys. Beatrice?"

"What am I, your attack dog?"

"Would you take it as a compliment?"

She stared at him.

"Please?"

No change.

"Thank you?"

Still nothing.

"Open sesame?"

Beatrice crossed her arms.

"Okay, guys, I guess we'll just fight them all. Not difficult. Just a pain. Paint. Ha. Let's spread out and try to fight them one-on-one. They're quick but not really dangerous if they can't group up."

The three swordsmen divided the room amongst them and moved quickly between each group of enemies in order to keep them from mounting any substantial counterattack. Bizarrely enough, the groups further back simply watched as their compatriots were slaughtered, one group at a time. Only when the attackers crossed some invisible threshold did each group spring into action, and by then, it was too late to mount any sort of defense. Soon enough, the trio had reached the stairs leading to the painting. Beatrice followed in a huff, arms still crossed.

"Right, so, uh, I don't know if this will work with more than one person, actually," Lex said, stopping them while he rummaged through his bag.

"What are we doing?" Oscar asked. "Is there something special about this painting?"

"Obviously, dipshit," Beatrice grumbled.

At last, Lex pulled a wooden doll out of the bag. It had willowy brown hair and a plain green gown.

"Okay, awkward time," the cleric said. "Everyone, hold hands just in case."

He extended his free hand to Oscar, who shrugged and took it. Siegmeyer happily took Oscar's other hand and then reached for Beatrice, who angled away.

"Oh, don't be such a sour-puss, Beatrice," the old knight teased. "Come on. Take my hand."

She just grumbled, but she didn't resist when he reached under her elbow and shook her hand loose. Lex nodded and led them up the stairs. He held up the doll to the painting, but nothing happened. He shrugged and physically pressed the wood to the oil. The dried pigments rippled as if he had disturbed the surface of a lake.

His hand sunk below the surface, gently at first, but then an inescapable current dragged him in. Oscar held tight as Lex's fingers nearly slipped away, and he too was drawn under. With the momentum of the two before him combined with the surprise, Siegmeyer fell forward into the painting quickly. Beatrice, however, had the luxury of a few moments to see what was happening and decided she wanted no part of it. She quickly wrested her hand out of Siegmeyer's gentle grip, tumbling backward down the stairs as the painting solidified once more.

"Well shit."


	29. Half-FireElemental Lolthtouched Tiefling

PAINTED WORLD OF ARIAMIS

"Beatrice!"

Siegmeyer's voice rang out through the canyon. Silence followed as the trio tried to adjust to the transition from a pleasant summer evening to biting winter night. Fortunately, the wind was still, so the only sound was the creaking of the ancient wooden bridge beneath them. Lex sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, it's unfortunate that she's not with us, but she's in no danger in sunlit Anor Londo. She knows where the bonfire is, and there aren't any enemies between it and the painting. I think even she'll have trouble with Abbott and Costello, so I don't think we'll come back to a worst-case scenario."

Oscar turned to look back the way they had come, but much of the bridge was out.

"It doesn't look like there's a way back at all."

"You have to go all the way through," Lex complained. "Every time. This is the Painted World of Ariamis, where the gods sealed away the things they most feared. Victims of the Blight, forbidden pyromancies, Undead dragons, the Occult ember, and most of Velka's stuff."

"Hm. Why are we here then?" Siegmeyer said with a nervous edge to his voice. "Do we need to recover something Slaanesh sealed?"

"Well, most of the gods are gone anyway, so I don't think they'd mind if we set a few prisoners free. One of them, I'm honestly just curious about. The other might actually be a huge help. This prison was actually originally constructed for the sole purpose of sealing _her_. Everything else got thrown in later because it was convenient."

"And freeing this prisoner is a good idea?" Oscar said flatly.

"Sure! Can't be any worse than the eternal recurrence of Undeath."

The knight just sighed, so Lex began his hesitant journey across the bridge. He faltered toward the end, where it had been clumsily repaired, but he grasped the ropes on other side tightly and hurried to solid ground. The mountainside was mostly impassable, but a long staircase was hewn into the living stone. Lex ascended carefully to avoid slipping on the snow-covered steps, the knights following in kind. The first landing was cluttered with debris – fallen rocks and branches.

The cleric stepped around and continued up the next flight, trying not to look at a standing arrangement of crude wooden pikes with hollows impaled upon them. He continued to the next landing and was climbing over some fallen logs when he looked back to see that Siegmeyer had stopped to look at the gruesome display.

"Lex, who were these men?"

"Don't know," he replied somberly. "They were probably put up as a warning, but by the gods or by later trespassers like us, I can't say. There's, uh, a lot more of them. You'll get used to it."

"No," Siegmeyer said. "I don't think I will."

They continued up the next flight in silence. There was a tight squeeze where the stone hadn't been cut away enough, but Siegmeyer didn't have it in him to joke about his weight. At the top of the stairs was a sloping ground. There was a bonfire, but more hollows hung impaled behind it, a common crow resting atop one of the spits. They all approached the fire to attune to it but then continued up the last staircase through the outer wall of the fortress.

There was a gate directly ahead, but it was closed, and a feral hollow loitered in front of it. Lex gestured to the right, where two feral hollows stumbled toward them. He and Oscar rushed to intercept them while Siegmeyer was left to deal with the one in front. One of the hollows had come from another staircase leading to the parapet above it. Beyond that was another staircase leading onto the inner walls the fortress proper.

A feral hollow with a bow shot at Lex as he approached, but he sidestepped and jumped up the stairs to stab it before it could fire again. Another hollow approached in his peripheral vision, so he swung backward, hacking through this one as well. A third limply jogged toward him, but he hopped off the stairs and out of Oscar's way, letting the knight take care of it. Another archer shot at him from atop yet another flight of stairs at the end of the platform, but he ignored it, simply taking a step alternately to the left or the right whenever it shot while he waited for Siegmeyer to catch up. He looked over the side of the wall.

The walls themselves were topped with jagged iron spikes – in setting, to prevent them from being climbed, but actually to keep Player Characters from jumping over them. The cleric rubbed his chin as he sidestepped another arrow.

"Actually, you guys head back down to the gate. I think I can open it by myself. It's locked from the outside, and normally you have to go through the entire thing just to get to the ground floor, but I can probably reach it from here."

With that, he slipped one leg between the spikes before crouching down to straddle the wall. Oscar blocked an arrow with his shield as Lex carefully pulled his other leg over and let himself fall to the floor below. The wall around this level had a gaping hole in it, so he simply jumped to the snow-covered courtyard below. This drop was fairly far, and when he hit the bottom, he collapsed and hugged his aching shins. He took a deep breath while he listened to the knights descend the stairs again.

After a moment, he rose and climbed the short steps to the gate. He fumbled at the sturdy plank holding it shut, the wetness of the snow causing the wood to swell and fit tighter in place even as it rotted. With one last pull and an animal grunt, he yanked it out of place and kicked the double door open. The knights were already waiting for him on the other side, and they scanned the courtyard as they entered.

There were a great deal more impaled hollows, crows cawing mockingly from atop the spikes. Headstones were scattered throughout the yard in the most unlikely places, but there were fewer trees than might be expected. Directly ahead were concrete cubes with chains hanging limply from their sides and in front of them, a strange bald spot in the snow. In the center of the courtyard and slightly to the left was a statue on a pedestal. It depicted a woman in robes comforting a small child, and living crows were perched on her shoulders.

Surrounding the statue was a wall of horrifying monstrosities. They had been hollows once, but their torsos had twisted and bulged into a fleshy mass that moved like a slug. Their legs dragged behind them uselessly, and their lopsided arms held a spear and shield. Additional spears jutted out of their backs, the points deep within the mounds of flesh.

"I think I may be ill," Siegmeyer said, swallowing.

"Just try not to think about it," Lex replied, cringing. "I had to do that in Blighttown with the cragspiders. I can't decide which is worse." He paused. "We are actually going this way, though," he said, pointing to the right.

When they turned, there was a wide staircase leading down to a sloping field of impaled hollows and the concrete blocks. Some of them could be seen for what they were from this angle – tiny cells which held prisoners for delivery to the Painted World. Much of the snow here was patchy without any obvious reason. A pair of feral hollows with torches bumbled toward the group, but Lex and Oscar cut them down carefully, before they could set anyone alight.

"Okay guys," Lex started, "remember how we tried to capture Kirk?"

"Yes," Oscar replied hesitantly.

"Let's try not to mess it up this time."

Oscar groaned.

"What serial killer are we supposed to capture without harming this time?"

"Xanthous King Jeremiah."

"Who? I have never heard of the land of Xanthous."

"I have no idea."

"Oho!" Siegmeyer interrupted. "Xanthous is not a country; it is a color!"

"Yeah. King in Yellow. Terrible reference. Japan. Tentacles. Et cetera. We need to capture him for two reasons. First, he may have some connection with Izalith, which could score me points with Quelaag."

Oscar groaned even more loudly.

"Second, he seems to be acquainted with that other prisoner we're here to break out. He doesn't show his face if we go for her first, though. Well, he doesn't show his face at all, but that's beside the point. From what everyone's been saying about Velka, the more allies we have, the better."

"A noble sentiment," Siegmeyer said, nodding.

"Right, so this fight's not going to be as difficult as Kirk's. Jeremiah is pretty crap at fighting proper. He uses a spiked whip, which won't really even hurt either of you. The problem is that he's a master pyromancer with secret Chaos pyromancies. We'll see if we can't talk first, but if you see him try to cast, break his arm before he kills us all."

"Seems simple enough," Oscar said, "but so did the last time."

"If you can block his movement, I should have no problem with the breaking," Siegmeyer murmured. "I don't want to linger here if it can be helped."

"Cool. I'll lure him out then."

Lex walked down the left side of the field. He waited for a few seconds, and another pair of feral hollows wandered toward him. He hacked through them with a single swing and looked around. Another torchbearer was slowly making its way toward him. After dispatching it, he continued to the end of the slope, where the field fell off to a sheer cliff.

"Lex! Here he comes!" Oscar shouted.

The cleric hurried back up as the two knights closed in on the red-black figure from behind. The King was woefully underdressed for the environment, his tight tunic leaving his rippling midriff visible, and his skirt teasingly short. Rather than wearing shoes, his feet were wrapped in the same material as his clothes. Of course, the strangest part of the outfit was his so-called crown, a long wrap that covered his face and continued spiraling upward to form a sort of lump. As soon as his phantom had exited the rift between worlds, he rolled away before the duo could grab him, lashing out defensively with his thorned whip. Immediately afterward, he did a backflip just in time to avoid Lex's bass cannon.

"By the gods, have you no shame!" Siegmeyer shouted in disgust.

"What?" Lex asked offhandedly, readying his sword.

"Not you! This vulgar exhibitionist!"

"The headdress isn't compensating for anything," Oscar explained.

"Well," the cleric said, unable to finish a response.

The invader took a low stance, ready to lash out in either direction. Oscar and Siegmeyer recovered their composure and put some space between them to avoid getting caught in the blast of the same pyromancy while Lex stood his ground, sword tensed and talisman in hand.

"Xanthous King Jeremiah," he said slowly, "are you still sane?"

"What doth such a word mean in these days of madness?" the King replied, his voice old and bitter.

Lex relaxed, hanging his talisman on his belt and sheathing his sword. Oscar and Siegmeyer opted to remain cautious, and the former moved closer to the cleric just in case.

"I am Lex of Luthor, Prophet of Slaanesh. My powers show me your name and your power but not your history. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I'm sure we can think of some means of repayment if you want."

The old man scoffed.

"An agent of Anor Londo, late and uninformed as ever. Very well then. If thou vowest thy purpose is true, then I shall endeavor to enlighten thee."

"Right. Straight to the point, then. It's unusual but not unexpected for someone to learn Chaos pyromancies before reaching Anor Londo. How is it, though, that you know Chaos Fire Whip?"

"Thy knowledge is strange. Dost thou not knowest of mine exile?"

Lex shrugged.

"When I said I know your name, I meant I literally know your name. I don't even know what you're king of. I do know that Chaos Fire Whip is the signature technique of a certain witch, which is why I'm wondering exactly how you know it."

"Indulgest first a question of mine own. What is thy mission, that the god did not see fit to informeth thee of mine history?"

"My goddess looks first to her own amusement. I'm trying to fulfill the totally bogus Prophecy of the Chosen Undead because she gets off on watching dudes set themselves on fire. My personal reasons are more along the lines of, 'well, someone has to do it.'"

"And thou asked if I were mad," the old King grumbled. "I am the Xanthous King, who fledeth in fear when catastrophe felleth upon his nation. In the time before, I was Jeremiah, King-Consort of Izalith. The Witch's Daughters were hers alone, but the first taughteth me the ways of combat so that I might not shame them among the Kings of other lands."

Lex bobbed his head back and forth, thinking the story over.

"Hey guys, you probably know more about this than I do. Does it check out?"

Oscar shrugged.

"I was not fond of ancient history. As the first son, most of my education was about Astora's own politics. When it wasn't military matters, I mean."

"Hmmm…" Siegmeyer began, resting his sword on the ground. "Oscar is right. I've read a few different versions of the fall of Izalith. I think one did mention a king, but I can't remember anything specific about him. He was more of a footnote, if I recall."

"To be forgotten is more than I deserve," Jeremiah said coldly.

"Right," Lex said, uncaring, "time for plan B." He raised his hand and began speaking into it out loud, "Hey Quelaag! I think I found your dad, maybe."

The back of his neck didn't buzz like usual, and the Chaos Witch's voice never materialized inside his mind.

"Thou hast a Widow's Ring?" Jeremiah said, perking up.

"Uh, yes. I don't think it's working, though."

"That is a consequence of this prison," the King said quickly. "It seals all powers so that their danger might not seep into Anor Londo beyond. But thou sayest bold Quelaag doth live?"

"Yeah. And Quelara and Quelana and Quelaav and, uh, I don't know the brother's name."

"They-" Jeremiah began, his voice cracking. "Brother?"

"Yeah. Big huge terrifying lava monster. Not sure he can talk, but he seems a gentle giant. Just kind of guards the Demon Ruins for all eternity."

"My…my child…my…son."

Jeremiah had kept up his guard, but now he went limp.

"Before…the accident, Quel had…usedeth her magic to find a way to carry my child. When it happened, I…I thought…"

Siegmeyer had removed his helmet and put aside his sword. Before Oscar or Lex noticed, he approached the phantom, putting a hand on the King's shoulder.

"It's okay, my friend. Let it all out."


	30. Never buy drugs from Gwyndolin

ANOR LONDO

Beatrice glared at the painting, fingers twitching as she resisted the urge to set it aflame. She didn't much care that it had dragged off her companions since the shitty prophet seemed to know what he was getting into. She had broken free not because she was scared of what might lie beyond but because no one would ever force her to do anything, especially not some suspicious artifact left behind by douchebag gods. Now, however, she was struggling to control her temper, as the painting had resisted all attempts to probe its magic. Without that peculiar doll Lex had, it seemed every bit an ordinary piece of overrated art.

"Mother… shit… dick…" she grumbled as she drummed her fingers up her staff.

Eventually, she decided to walk away before she did something she would regret, kicking the corpses of the painting guardians as she passed. As she walked under the gazebo and reached for the lever, she became curious about the stairway next to it. Having nothing better to do until the others finished their journey in the magical land of frozen nipples, she turned and began the descent. At the bottom was a small, dark, circular room with a bonfire in its center. Along the walls were statues of Silver Knights, and on the floor were plaques listing the names and deeds of the Knights who fell in Izalith.

Opposite the entrance was a massive statue of the Lord of Sunlight, his accessories coated in gold leaf and gleaming in the firelight. The plaque before this statue said nothing, for in that time, there had been no need to recount the Great Lord's glory. Now, even the fairy tales were fading, and a woman from centuries ago could hardly recognize the god. Beatrice casually attuned to the bonfire and approached the figure, squinting in the dimness. She scratched at the golden greatsword absently.

"I wonder if I would get more selling the peelings or breaking off the whole thing and trying to find a collector."

She blinked twice, then felt the blade with her whole hand.

"Hold a second. More magic artwork? Piss off!"

She fired a soul spear at it, but the energy just washed over the marble like water.

"Oh, a tough guy, are you? How's some of this?!"

An aura of power surged up about her as she fired a soul geyser. Again, the energy seemed to simply drain away.

"This is bullshit! A brick wall is one thing, but I should be able to pop a statue's head right off!"

With magic not working, she proceeded to beat Gwyn's ankles with her staff. She stopped only when she realized the catalyst she'd found in Blighttown had a pointed end; thereafter she was stabbing instead. While being Undead kept her arm from ever growing tired, nothing could protect from boredom, and so she gave up after a time and turned to sulk in front of the bonfire. After a time, an idea came to her. She clenched her fist tight and focused her power into it, squeezing tighter and tighter.

As the glimmer of soul energy shining between her fingers grew blinding, she twisted her body, extending one hand to the bonfire and pointing her fist at the statue. At last, she roared and opened her palm. The room went white, and she fell backward into the bonfire, striking the sword hard enough to knock the air out of her. She screamed as the fire's energy repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt the back of her legs before she was able to throw herself aside. She lay on the ground panting raggedly.

She dry heaved once, twice, then forced herself to stop as she dragged toward the wall. There she remained for a while, blindly hugging her hat. The room had more or less been destroyed by the blast. The Silver Knight statues were in ruins, and the memorial plaques were shattered across the floor. Only the statue of the Great Lord was wholly without damage, looking over the fire imperiously as he always had.

"No. NO! DIE YOU SON OF A BITCH!" the witch screamed, rising once more.

She gripped her gnarled old staff in one hand and the sleek scepter of the Sealer in the other and began to wave both in a frenzy, soul masses forming a galaxy above her head. At last, she unleashed a pair of soul geysers which triggered the rush of stars and sent a river of power over the statue. The witch was panting, sweat pouring down her face, but the marble Lord continued to stand, oblivious to her power.

"PISS OFF!" she shrieked, hysterical now.

She glared at it, her vision growing dark. Her white, featureless eyes bored into the stone. She bit her lip and slowed her breathing.

"So that's what it is," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

She approached and thrust the tin banishment catalyst upward, striking the statue in the chest. A faint light streamed out of the staff, and the entire wall flickered and faded away. Ahead was a long staircase. The witch grit her teeth and stomped down the stairs until she reached the bottom, where a long rug led toward a doorway blocked by fog. At the end of the rug was a symbol of some sort, with lit candles forming a square about it.

Beatrice hissed and yanked the end of the rug so that the candles fell over. Soon enough, it came alight, and she stepped over the flames to approach the fog. Just as she reached for it, an androgynous voice emanated from within.

"Halt! This is the tomb of the Great Lord Gwyn. Tarnished, it shall not be, by the feet of men. If thou art a true discipline of the Dark Sun, cast aside thine ire, hear the voice of mineself, Gwyndolin, and kneel before me."

"No," Beatrice said absently. "Kneel before _me_."

She passed through the fog and entered a long hallway. Pillars bearing statues of Silver Knights lined either side, and sunlight streamed in through the windows between them on the right side. At the far end was one final window shining over some sort of platform.

"What foolishness…" the voice echoed from the end of the hall. "Why trespasseth upon the Great Lord's tomb, whilst thou art a disciple of the Dark Sun? Mark the words of mineself, Gwyndolin! Thou shalt not go unpunished!"

"Better men have tried, _god_."

The deity appeared in the distance, a deathly figure with white robes and a sun-shaped mask. Beatrice lashed out with her staff, firing a soul spear, then stomped forward and fired a second. The god's divine power glimmered, and he disappeared in a flicker of lightning. The blasts passed through where he had stood and continued to the end of their range before dissipating. He should have been hard to see, having teleported quite some distance down the hallway, but to Beatrice's dimming sight, he seemed to have a golden glow about him.

She crossed her catalysts and waved them apart over her head, spreading a score of soul masses as she ran after him. He responded in kind, casually swinging his golden scepter to draw a line of glimmering orbs that rushed toward her and popped her crude sorcery before it had a chance to fire. Now, he drew it back, and when he swung, a small sun made of souls roared down the hall. The witch spun so that it narrowly missed her and fired another spear. This one struck its mark, but the god shrugged it off, firing another wave of homing orbs.

While Beatrice took cover behind one of the pillars, the god pulled an elaborate golden bow from his robes and with his dextrous fingers, nocked five black-fletched arrows at once. The instant the witch left cover, his fingers danced across the string, causing phantom images to fire the arrows in sequence rather than at once. Beatrice was narrowly able to avoid this attack by rolling under it, but a second stream of arrows followed without pause. Trapped, she quickly tossed Logan's floppy hat into the air in front of her, dulling the blow a little before the arrows stabbed into her shoulder. She roared as she regained her feet, running to get into range with total abandon.

The god raised his scepter again and vanished with a spark. Three figures approached from the far end of the hallway. The idiot patrol had returned, apparently, and were rushing to meet her.

"Beatrice, are you quite all right?" Siegmeyer bellowed. "I'm sorry for losing you back there."

"Pay attention, you shitheads!" the witch hissed, trying to remove the hat from her shoulder if not the arrows. "There's some jackass god in here.

"Oh Beatrice, are you fighting with Lady Gwyndolin? She has been a most gracious host."

"What would you expect?" Oscar jabbed. "She's all ill-tempered, ungrateful witch."

"Whatever," Lex sighed. "Let's just tell her so we can get back to business."

"Tell me what, ki-?"

A beam of soul energy wrenched across the room. Beatrice threw herself to the floor as it seared overhead. When she looked up, the trio hadn't moved. Worse, they couldn't move, flesh and steel turned to stone. A fourth figure walked down the long hallway, a trail of souls draining from his mouth like smoke.

"I'll be taking my hat back now," Logan said flatly as he approached.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Beatrice spat, rising. "Those goody two-shoes didn't have shit to do with taking your hat."

"Oh, they'll be fine," Logan continued. "It will take more than that to do away with Undead who surmounted Sen's Fortress in the blind pursuit of some greater good. You, my dear arsonist, don't seem quite so determined. The color has already gone from your eyes. Tell me, how much longer do you have before you hollow?"

Beatrice glared at him with blank eyes. The humanity she had been hoarding roiled beneath her skin.

"Not afraid?" the old sorcerer hummed. "You should be. Could it be that monsters can't feel fear?"

He struck Lex's petrified body with uncharacteristic force, shattering it and sending pebbles and dust spraying across the hall.

"So confident," he said. "Perhaps I should destroy your little friends again and again until they hollow themselves. Hm? Does that scare you?"

Beatrice growled and slung both arms forward, blasting him with a pair of soul spears. The old man simply extended his hands and caught them, dispersing the souls as he closed his fists.

"Everything could have been avoided if you had just come along quietly. They needn't have died."

The witch turned to see blood oozing out of Oscar and Siegmeyer's armors. The countless pieces of Lex strewn across the floor dripped with gore.

"They had people they cared about too, you know? Those poor souls who died in the blaze."

The hallway had changed. They stood in one of the Dragon School's dormitories, tongues of fire whipping about them as the building collapsed. The air was black with smoke, and the shrieks of those trapped echoed throughout.

"Don't give me this shit!" Beatrice snarled. "You bastards started it!"

The hall was gone altogether now. They stood outside a small cottage in the woods. The whole building was alight, and it was rapidly spreading to the dead trees surrounding. Beatrice had shrunk some, and her eyes were a vivid green. She glared at Logan with such intensity that his face melted, and he became a different person altogether.

Gone was the matted gray hair, hooked nose, and tired eyes. In their place was the grin of a jackal, sharp features, and the strength of youth. This sorcerer had a few of his fellows by his side, all dressed in the black robes of Vinheim's secret order of sorcerer-assassins. Beatrice's trademark robes were gone, and she was dressed as a simple peasant, though she clutched her hat tightly.

"A shame about the old witch," one chuckled. "Just one of the risks of practicing that pyromania nonsense. Accidents can happen."

"Now that's not fair," another said seriously. "She was awfully old! Maybe she just knocked over a lantern!"

With that, they started laughing again. Beatrice ignored them, eyes still locked with the man who was no longer Logan.

"Don't give me that look," he said teasingly. "The old bat didn't have to die. You're just bad luck is all. A monster who kills and devours everyone around her."

The fire overtook the wood, and the sorcerers were washed away in the heat haze. Their leader melted again and became a bald, hook-nosed betrayer. Beatrice had shrunk again, now a girl of perhaps a dozen winters, wearing rags and an open-faced helm much too big for her. They stood on a ruined field, and all around them were corpses. Rats and vultures feasted on their rotten flesh while humanity swirled about them.

"Don't take it personally, love. It's just business is all."

"No! This is-! This already-!"

The putrescent smell was overwhelming, and Beatrice vomited, the helmet thrown from her head as she heaved. When she looked up, the scene had changed again. She was much smaller now, and the horrid smell was one of disease. A thin cloth covered a body riddled with sores while moans of pleasure echoed in the background.

"Mama?"

Overwhelmed, Beatrice lost control of her senses. Her humanity bubbled close to the surface, but before it could spill out, a gentle hand restrained it. Her head rocked as she relived the scenes again and again, gradually forgetting the sunlit hall in which she had begun. At last the burden became too much, and she collapsed at the foot of the stairs.

"How foul," Gwyndolin commented, slithering toward her on his dozen snake's tails. "It seems as though there is no end to human wickedness. Thea, this Undead is not Father's successor. Dispose of it. Ensure the mad Duke lay not hand upon it."

The Fire Keeper of Anor Londo genuflected before him.

"As you command, my lord."

The knightess collected Beatrice's limp body and threw it over her shoulder before beginning the trek up the stairs. The god's eyes followed her.

"No servant of the Darkmoon," he whispered. "How terrible these men have become to have forced entrance."


	31. Hatsune Miku does live concerts

PAINTED WORLD OF ARIAMIS

Eventually, the invasion timer ran out, and Jeremiah simply faded away. Siegmeyer sighed and put on his helmet once more before rejoining Lex and Oscar. They were playing cards on a pew in the ruined chapel beside the field after having wandered off to avoid the awkward fatherly conversation. They'd killed the phalanx in the courtyard while waiting and assumed that Siegmeyer might go on talking until the Fire faded. Their game of rummy had only just started, but Lex was already losing quite badly.

"Oho! There you are! Shall we continue or are we taking a break for now? I'll play the victor if you want to stay out of the cold a while longer."

Lex quickly tossed his cards onto the bench and rose.

"Nope. Good to go."

"Such a sore loser…" Oscar said mockingly.

"I know better than to try to win that sort of hopeless battle," the cleric said, sighing. "Speaking of which, the next part is really obnoxious, so I'm going to see if we can skip that too. Siegmeyer, can you get a good grip on that statue?"

"Hm? Well, I'll give it a try."

The old knight wandered out into the snow. He reached up and scratched at the top of the podium but was unable to reach the statue proper.

"I'm afraid I can't quite reach."

"What about the base? The whole top part should be able to spin, I think."

Siegmeyer stretched his arms to take hold of two corners. He grunted as he strained, but the statue wouldn't budge.

"I'm sorry, Lex. I can't get the leverage to move it at this angle."

"Ugggggh," the cleric sighed. "The sewers. The sewers. The bonewheels. Right. Shields ready."

He flipped open his bag and pulled out a hideous yellow and black shield with green vines drawn overtop. He slung it loosely on one arm and walked to the left of the statue, passing under some impaled Undead. Between the building and the wall was a small alcove in which an old well sat. The side had been deliberately broken, and there was a sturdy wooden ladder leading into its depths.

"All right, so…" Lex began. "Basically, we're going to go down into some wet, narrow passages and get jumped by skeletons rolling on spiked wheels. I don't remember where exactly they come from because it's dark, so keep your shield up at all times. Try to knock them aside, because they can keep spinning in place, somehow, and your arm will give out, and you'll get turned into mincemeat. I'm going to try to get to the mechanism we need to activate, so you'll need to cover me when I see it."

"Understood."

"You didn't even need to ask, my friend."

They slid down the ladder one at a time. The bottom of the well had been carved open into a series of tunnels, puddles of water scattered across the cave floor. Lex followed the first short passage to its end, shield raised. As it connected to a longer passage at a right angle, something whizzed past in the dim light, sparking as it glanced his grass crest shield.

"Get ready!" he shouted as he took a step back.

The thing shot back down the hall, swerving into the other passage and grinding against the cleric's shield. Oscar jabbed under Lex's arm quickly, catching the thing. Sure enough, it was a skeleton hanging out of the axle of a spiked wooden wheel. The spokes caught on the titanite blade and ripped to shreds. As the skeleton fell over, Lex stomped on it repeatedly, even after they'd received its souls.

"Something from your past 'experience'?" Oscar asked wryly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

The cleric led them to the end of the short hallway and turned left, then right at an intersection. Directly ahead was a sheer wall. Lex bobbed his head and gave it an experimental kick. It gave immediately, vanishing into smoke.

"Well. That illusory wall was actually an illusory wall. Huh."

As he spoke, another bonewheel turned to face him, getting a jogging start before jumping into a roll. He threw his shield up to block it, and Siegmeyer hefted his sword over the cleric's shoulder to crush it.

"Phew. Thanks. That surprised me."

He took another step forward, and a third bonewheel rushed out of the darkness, nearly running him down before he threw his shield up desperately. Oscar shoved him out of the way and smashed the skeleton into the wall with the flat of his blade, shattering its skull.

"I'm just going to stop talking, because they apparently hate the sound of my voice."

A fourth splashed toward them and then a fifth. Now in front, Oscar blocked one of them while Siegmeyer squeezed past Lex in time to intercept the next, using his small, spiked shield as a battering ram more than a defense. The old knight sent the first clattering into the ceiling, then swung his arm back down to crush Oscar's.

"Excellent teamwork, my friends!" he said, rolling his shoulder. "Lex, if you would."

The cleric nodded and moved in front again. Beyond the false wall was an open room supported by square columns. The nearest had a pulley with a crank set into it. Lex rushed to the device and began turning as quickly as he could. Oscar and Siegmeyer set themselves on either side and waited, shields raised, for another attack. Eventually, a grinding sound came from above, and Lex let go of the wheel.

"That was anticlimactic," Oscar noted as Lex put away his shield.

"It's worse when there's only one person," the cleric replied sheepishly.

Quietly, he turned back the way they had come and led them out of the well again. The statue of the mother and child had turned to face the other direction, facing an open doorway at the top of a broad stairway. Inside the shallow entryway at the top was another short staircase framed by columns, with a fog gate blocking the doorway.

"What should we expect?" Oscar said, stopping.

"Nothing. This is just a progress indicator, really. The boss fog is a bit further on, and as mentioned, we're not fighting her anyway."

"Got it," the knight said, relaxing.

Siegmeyer nodded but was too ready to be done with the world full of impaled corpses and carrion birds to relax. Lex dispersed the fog and stepped into the room but stopped abruptly. The room ought have been empty – the ruined ground floor of some Tower of Babel knockoff, with rubble strewn across the floor under a blanket of snow. A spiral staircase should have led to the top of the ruined tower, where there were entirely too many crow demons and the red sign soapstone.

These things were technically still there, but it bore little similarity to what would have been expected. A disco ball hung from a wire suspended between two windows, and blinding pink spotlights shone on it from the underside of the staircase, going all the way to the top. Between every pair of the many pillars supporting the tower was a massive speaker, and now that the protective fog had gone, absolutely filthy dubstep howled through the silent winter night. The pointlessly big empty room was overcrowded by hideously beautiful pink monster women, their bald heads crowned by horns, and crablike claws snapping in time to the music. In the center of the vortex of light, sound, and bodies was a stunningly beautiful blond woman.

She wore only a corset with leggings but that was more conservative than the mere loincloths worn by the monsters about her. Like them, horns ringed her head, and a tail with a sickle-like end flitted about the floor.

"Llllllexy! So glad you could make it!"

"Uh?"

When she walked, it was with such grace that she practically floated, leaving no impression in the snow. She threw out her arms and grabbed the cleric, stuffing his face in her cleavage.

"Uhhh?"

"Come! Oscar, Siegmeyer, I'm going to borrow sexy Lexy for a bit of a chat. Feel free to mingle, the girls are all single."

She giggled and began to drag Lex away. Oscar quickly grabbed his scabbard, pulling them back.

"Wait just one moment. What's going on here? Lex said there was nothing in this room, and that this world was a prison. I'm not going to let you drag him off like that."

The knight held his sword at the ready. Siegmeyer, who had been desperately trying to find somewhere to look without exposed breast, likewise snapped to attention.

"Oh, Lex and I have a very _intimate_ relationship," she said, licking the side of his face with a long, snakelike tongue.

"Is that just a thing people are doing now?" he complained. "Do I need to reduce the salt in my diet?"

"Lex!"

"Uh. Yeah, gimme a…"

He glanced down. The woman had a sizable bulge in her corset bottom.

"Yep. Well, I have never been more confused, but this is definitely Slaanesh."

The goddess laughed a deep, throaty laugh.

"Oh, you know me too well, my beloved prophet."

"Yeah, well, I'd kind of like to know exactly what happened, because this crossover doesn't make any sense. Even if it did, Undead are kind of a Nurgle thing."

"Blame that on your own taste daaarling! I had the delicious idea of using games to get my beloved slaves into fighting shape. This dreary wasteland just happened to suit you best."

"And the part where I was lying about the whole prophet thing and more or less chose your name out of a hat? I seriously could have chosen the Tribunal or YISUN or someone."

"Oh, no! You knew it was me. You've just… forgotten the circumstances of your arrival here. I'm sure it'll come back to you with the right… 'motivation.'"

The cleric unconsciously glanced downward again.

"Uh. No thanks."

The goddess sighed and looked to the knights.

"Well, there you have it, boys. Just let me borrow Lexy for a teeny bit. Enjoy the party."

More or less satisfied, Oscar let them go while Siegmeyer tried to navigate to their original destination, the open door on the far side of the room. The younger knight had conflicted feelings on the party, the likes of which he'd never seen before. Eventually, though, he removed his helmet and clipped it to his belt before trying to mimic the wild dance of the daemonettes. Slaanesh, meanwhile, dragged Lex up the first flight of stairs, to what was the more usual entrance.

"You know, Lexy," she said sultrily, "I'm the last to complain about someone being too social, but you really shouldn't be picking up strays like that. How are you supposed to reach your full potential if you have other people to help you through challenges you're supposed to face alone? There are few things I'd say are _wrong_," she chuckled, "but this is wrong."

"Can I at least wait until I've fought Laurel and Hardy?"

The goddess frowned subtly.

"Well, what am I supposed to tell them?"

"Knights are men," she snickered, "of faith. They'll understand if you tell them the truth."

"What about Beatrice? She probably won't take no for an answer."

"Ohhhhhh," Slaanesh dragged on, "she's already been taken care of."

"If you say so," Lex said, quirking an eyebrow. He thought for a while, trying to avoid the goddess' piercing gaze, then spoke again, "Can I make a request?"

"And what might thaaaaat be?"

"Can you only give me useful mutations? Because I can't really Iron Warrior it up here if you turn me into a horrifying mess of tentacles. Probably. Andre might be able to help me pull a Götz von Berlichingen, but that's about it."

The goddess just smiled, her mouth growing ever wider until her lips had reached her eyebrows.

"Ah. Crap."

Oscar, meanwhile, had become quite popular. While his movements were still crude, his armor lent his movements an extra weight that was unique in comparison to the daemonettes' flawless grace. They crowded around him, watching enraptured as he flailed with the abandon of a soldier given leave after a long campaign. Siegmeyer was long gone. At last, the prophet and his god returned to the dance floor.

Lex was even more awkward than Oscar at first, but when it finally sank in that there was no one who would even consider judging him, he broke out long-hidden knowledge of disco moves. Time bled into endlessness as the beat throbbed into the eternal night. The spell was only broken when Siegmeyer at last returned. At his side was the Xanthous King, the long crown unraveled to reveal gray hair and worn but regal features. Behind them, nervously playing with an enormous scythe that loomed over all of them, was a woman in all white.

She had long, feathered hair and wore a trailing fur coat that darkened as it approached her bare feet. Her eyes gleamed gold and were slitted like a serpent's, and some small horns jutted from her forehead like a tiara. A long, furry tail wagged happily behind her, though she tried to hide it.

"E-excusest mine intrusion," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the bass.

Oscar was completely absorbed in the dance, but Lex noticed her towering over the daemonettes. He began to make his way toward her, but Slaanesh grabbed his shoulder. The half-dragon squinted, leaning forward on her scythe. The goddess quickly spun the cleric about and began pushing him toward the courtyard entrance. The crossbreed took her first step into the room, and the lights and speakers within arm's reach vanished without fanfare.

"Mother?"

The daemonettes near her turned into masses of crows fluttering in humanoid shapes.

"What trickery is this?!" Siegmeyer shouted, slinging his sword to the fore.

Oscar managed to hear that. He turned and tried to reach them, but the daemonettes surrounding him wouldn't let him pass.

"Mother, what is all this?"

The crossbreed hurried into the room, light and sound fading to shadow and silence as she passed. Oscar found himself trapped in a circle of crow demons. He glanced about cautiously, putting his helmet back on and setting one hand on his sword. Lex's sixteen strength wasn't much, but he was still able to wrench himself free of the goddess' grasp. As he turned, her disguise fell away.

She was a tall, thin woman, with pale skin and long black talons. Her hair was inky black and fluttered back like a pennant before falling to her ankles. Her lips were black, her nose was long and sharp, and a blindfold covered her eyes. She wore a trailing black evening gown with a collar of crows' feathers. Still, she was ephemeral, translucent – an illusion of the moonlight streaming in from above.

"This makes way more sense!" Lex said, sighing with relief.

"You stupid girl!" the rogue goddess spat. "One thousand years of exile, and you still cannot control your own power! Do you not think these illusions had their purpose? Did you believe I would set aside everything to embrace you with open arms?"

A thunderous crack interrupted the witch's tirade. Blood splattered across the snow as Jeremiah's whip tore out the throat of one of the crow demons. Oscar quickly forced his way through the blockade before the others could react.

"I am a failure of a parent, but thou art a monster! Leave the girl be!"

"What business does the consort of a dead kingdom's dead queen have addressing a god?"

"I will-!"

"It is quite alright, Sir Jeremiah," the crossbreed said meekly. "Mother speaks the truth. Yet… When last the gods condemned a prisoner to my care, he was one of thy Pardoners. Sir Ornstein said thou art exiled from Anor Londo. What is thy purpose here?"

"Why, I'm fulfilling the last order of the Great Lord Gwyn, of course. Surely, such a task is more important than some silly exile imposed by his lessers, jealous of his favor bestowed upon me. Now, silly girl, listen to your mother and keep these troublesome Undead here. Only the cleric may leave this world. Do you understand, or should I repeat it to make sure it sticks in your stupid reptilian brain?"

"I…" the half-dragon said quietly. "I understand, Mother. I wish thee well in thy travels."

"There's a good girl," the goddess cooed. "I'll be there in person soon, so don't fret your silly little head. Do a good job, and I may even pat your head. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, Mother," the girl said dutifully.

"Ta-ta. See you soon," the witch goddess said, holding one hand up in farewell as her image faded.

"You all heard Mother," the crossbreed said plainly.

Oscar drew his sword, while Lex went for his talisman.

She shook her head quickly.

"We must hurry and warn Sir Ornstein before she doth arrive!"


	32. Tall person problems

"Please, forgivest me."

The crossbreed whisked her long sleeve in front of her face, the trailing fur whipping up the snow. The instant her eyes were covered, she vanished from sight. There was a light breeze and the sound of feet pattering across the stone. The crow demons' heads tilted to one side and then rolled off bloodlessly. The woman reappeared near the exit, frowning.

"Come, we mustn't tarry."

Lex shrugged.

"Well, this is fine, I guess. Let's get a move on, Oscar."

"What just happened?" the knight asked as they hurried out the doorway and along the crumbling stone bridge to the far tower. "It's clear that Velka had us under some spell. For what purpose?"

"Oh. She was trying to make me get rid of you and Siegmeyer. And…uh oh. Uh, she said Beatrice had already been taken care of."

"I have no love for that madwoman, but I wouldn't wish the raven goddess on anyone. We need to hurry before Velka convinces her that she rules the world or some other nonsense."

The group ran to the end of the bridge, at last coming across to a smaller, more open tower than the one they had left. They wasted no time here, however, quickly crossing to the other side. They climbed a short stairway to another bridge, this one sharply unfinished. The crossbreed didn't hesitate, taking a running leap from the ledge. In the open air, she tucked her arms to her side and plunged straight down into the darkness of the canyon below.

"Oh my-!" Siegmeyer bellowed.

"Just do it!" Lex shouted backward before leaping with both legs spread and arms outstretched. Catching the reference, he snickered and shouted, "Come on and slam and go back to Lordran!"

Jeremiah jumped next, making a glamorous swimming dive into the darkness.

"The gods were all mad, weren't they?" Oscar muttered before making a running long jump.

At last, Siegmeyer resigned himself and belly flopped into oblivion.

ANOR LONDO

The group found themselves in Anor Londo, looking at the painting as if they had merely drifted off while doing so, rather than having been sucked into a prison dimension. The main difference was that they were missing a witch and had acquired an exiled king and a half-dragon demigod. The crossbreed was the first to recover. She blinked severely as her eyes grew used to the sun after a millennium of moonlight, and she basked in the warmth for a moment. As the others turned about, she vanished again.

The white-robed painting guardians whirled around when they heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the marble, but their heads rolled from their shoulders one by one before they could react. There was no sound of cutting, nor was there any blood. The Undead followed the trail of bodies to the doorway at the far end of the cathedral, where the crossbreed reappeared. She stooped under the human-sized arch, smiling faintly.

"When last I passed here, I was small enough to fit. Oh, forgive my rudeness," she said without stopping. "I am called Priscilla. It is my pleasure to know you all."

"Lex of Luthor, prophet of Slaanesh."

"Oscar, of Astora."

"My name is Siegmeyer of Catarina! The pleasure is all mine, Lady Priscilla. We happen to be missing our last member for now, but I'm sure we'll find her shortly."

"You're not worried about her?" Oscar asked.

"Of course I am! But she's a strong young woman – and the only one of us who has managed to avoid a terrible fate so far!"

He chuckled pleasantly, so Oscar shrugged and said no more. Now that they were all on the balcony, Priscilla turned the lever and curtsied.

"Though our acquaintance will doubtless be short, I am glad to be among such noble company."

The platform shuddered and rumbled as it spun upward. When it had locked into place, Lex hurried back toward the elevator to the bonfire.

"Hold!" Priscilla cried. "Thou goest the wrong way!"

"Yeah, but if any of us die, we'll get shunted back to the Painted World. Hm. Well, I guess Gwyndolin's bonfire is closer. We'll just need to go back down."

"We have no time for such detours. It will not be long before my presence is noticed. We must find Sir Ornstein 'fore I am accused of flight from mine exile."

"Oh, that's not a problem at all. Anor Londo's so empty right now that we're the most people gathered in one place in a few hundred years. Probably. I don't know if Uncle Dolan ever has the Darkmoons meet up."

Priscilla's eyes widened, and she was silent. Lex knitted his eyebrows and shrugged awkwardly.

"I guess no one thought to mention what was going on outside. The Fire's on its last legs, and the gods mostly left. I guess they want to live out the rest of the Age without Gwyn's legacy literally looming over them. Ornstein's still on guard duty, though."

"Thank goodness."

"Still, you're right. We shouldn't give your mom any more time if we can help it. We'll be out of luck if she makes off with the Lordvessel. Unless that thing I said about there being a bunch of copies is true. Anyway, I think we'll be able to make it through to the next bonfire easily enough with your help."

"Then let us proceed-"

"Hold on a minute. Time to split the party. Just let me get the ball rolling."

"What dost thou-?"

He flipped out his thumb and pinky finger and held his fist to his face.

"Yo, Quelaag! What's up?"

"_Good news, Prophet. Kirk is on his way back with Vamos. I won't have to rip your tongue from your throat. What is it that you need now? Kneepads for all that praying?_"

"Hey. Hey. Not funny. If the gods let me shoot lightning in exchange for a little lip service-"

"_Do you listen to yourself when you speak? Lip service?_"

"Right, that made it worse. Anyway, I found someone else and figured I'd let him use the ring while I'm fighting Drake and Josh. Here, let me go ahead and give it to him now."

"_Who could you have possibly found that-?_"

He pulled the ring off and handed it to a stunned Jeremiah.

"We'll come back for you. I'm assuming you know where the bonfire near the entrance is. If you run into a foulmouthed witch, just send her our way."

The old king nodded silently, his eyes shimmering. Priscilla put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and then turned back toward Gwyn's palace. Now, the balcony was connected to a short stretch of road leading to a massive staircase. There were three sets of stairs, the one in the center sized for demigods and giants, with human-sized steps on either side.

"Everyone, keep to the right," Lex said, waving as they climbed. "There are some guards at the top. We're just going to try to run past them and into the, uh, plaza, maybe? The area behind the fence."

"Could thou not explainst thy business to them, Prophet Lex?"

"It's part of the Prophecy of the Chosen Undead. The Chosen must undergo trials to receive the Lordvessel from the Princess of Sunlight. It's all faker than her boobs, of course, but saying that only seems to make everyone mad."

"A Pardoner has already tried to kill the two of us," Oscar clarified, gesturing to himself and Siegmeyer. "Lord Sen returned to Lordran to make his trial more difficult. After what just occurred, it would seem your mother has plans for Lex that don't include the rest of us."

"I am not surprised," Priscilla said sourly. "Mother hath always considereth people as tools. Sir Ornstein never spoketh flatteringly of her. It seems she forced even the Great Lord to taketh part in a scheme of hers before he departed. His ire burned like the Chaos flame when he spake of it."

"Was it something to do with the Prophecy?" Lex said seriously.

"I do not know enough to say."

Much taller than the others, Priscilla's line of sight had crested over the top of the stairs. Ahead were two of the giant sentinels of Anor Londo. They were much smaller than the giants of Sen's Fortress, only slightly larger than a demigod like the crossbreed, but they wore impenetrably thick brass plate and carried blessed shields and halberds.

"We are discovered!" Priscilla hissed. "Allow me speakst with them so they do not raiseth alarum at my presence."

She didn't wait for a reply before hurrying up the stairs and approaching the nearer one on the right.

"You know, I wasn't even thinking," Lex began. "How many of these guys were fake, again?"

As the crossbreed approached, the sentinel faded away with a gleam of moonlight. The other stomped toward her, but once it was within reach, it too vanished into thin air.

"Even the Great Lord's keep is guarded by Mother's illusions?" she said, reaching toward where one had been standing.

"Nah. These are Gwyndolin's. I think the only ones left in Anor Londo are a handful of Silver Knights, the G-Man, and Ren and Stimpy."

"Who?"

"You get used to it," Oscar said, sighing. "Knowing who _would_ be helpful, Lex."

"Executioner and Dragonslayer. They're the final test. Kind of a waste. I figure Ornstein might be able to handle the Four Kings, at least."

"Sir Ornstein and that-" she shuddered, "-monster are all that are left?"

"Lessee," Lex said, holding up his fingers one at a time. "Artorias was corrupted by the Abyss and had to be put down. Ciaran died watching over his grave, though whether it was suicide, starvation, or even age, I don't know. Money's on suicide the way she's slumped against it, though. Gough retired and was never heard from again.

Going to be totally honest and say I don't know what where all the gods went. I _think_ Fina is in Carim. Probably. Your mom too, but I'm thinking it might be more likely that she travels. Presumably, Allfather Lloyd is in Thorolund if he's still alive. Don't know where Gwynevere went, but she married Flann sometime after leaving."

"Did you not sayst Her Highness would giveth thee the Lordvessel?"

"Well, an illusion of her will. I'm not supposed to know this, obviously."

"I see," Priscilla said quietly. "So even she…"

"Don't worry," Siegmeyer rumbled, struggling to pat the much taller woman on the back. "This is a lot to take in, I'm sure. Lex is not the most delicate of prophets. But I'm sure the heroic Dragonslayer of legend will help you make sense of it when we meet him."

"Thank you, Sir Siegmeyer," she said quietly.

"Oh, don't call me Sir!" the old knight chuckled. "I'm sure you're much older and nobler than myself. We're all friends here. There's no need for formality."

The crossbreed smiled faintly and nodded.

"Right," Lex said, scratching his chin. "Let's see if this got better or worse."

The front gates were truly enormous, designed for gods even larger than Sen's giants. Opening such gates would be impossible, even with Siegmeyer's monstrous strength, so Lex turned past the guard post. The wall of the keep led to an iron gate sized for demigods, with a human-sized door in its center. The larger gate was already open, so they entered the side area, which led to an entrance which was merely demigod-sized.

"This one doesn't open either," he said, shrugging.

In parallel to the main stairs was a smaller staircase leading to a viewing platform with a suspicious lack of railing. Three hideous white creatures stood ready, wicked spears of cracked bone at the ready. Their bodies were humanoid, but with hideous crooked limbs, spined wings, and horns. Their hands were red as if soaked with blood, and the skin of their heads seemed stretched tight over their brains.

"Batwing demons," Lex said. "These are definitely fake and more importantly, proof that Gwyndolin has no idea what Chaos demons even look like. Priscilla, if you would?"

The crossbreed walked slowly down the steps. The nearest demon, standing beneath the top of the stairs, faded away. The other two faced similar fates, vanishing as the demigod approached while the Undead trio followed behind her.

"Okay, now when we reach the bottom of this ramp, you'll need to run onto the platform to dispel the next two. But don't run too far. Stay behind the pillar just in case. I don't remember how many of the Silver Knights are illusions, and I don't want you getting shot off the platform."

Priscilla nodded and turned to descend a buttress to a tower below. In the distance, there was the sound of a steel cable whipping.

"You're too tall!" Lex shouted quickly. "Duck!"

The demigod's natural height placed her quite a bit over the decorative fencing that rose from either side of the buttress, but now she crouched so that she was even with the spikes at the top. Moments later, a massive spear whizzed over her head.

"Right, so this is a good time to explain, I guess," the prophet continued as the others looked at him expectantly. "That was an _arrow_. Obviously, you have to use arrows to hunt flying things. Dragons are flying things. Gwyn's Knights have absurdly large arrows to hunt absurdly large flying things."

"Makes sense," Oscar said dully, shrugging. "Why are they here?"

"Isn't it strange how convenient all these detours up and down rooftops are?"

"Oho!" Siegmeyer said, snapping his fingers. "The gods have put quite a lot of thought into these tests! I must be sure to thank Lady Gwyndolin."

The continued down the buttress to a viewing platform suspiciously placed in the middle a tower with no other means of reaching it. There was a column on either side of the buttress' end, and batwing demons lunged out at the group as they stepped off. As their spears lashed out, however, they erupted into moonlight, and the demons themselves were washed away. There was a low bench at the foot of the buttress, which served as a step down from it to the platform. Once they were all down, Lex lay down on it and stretched.

"Right, so one last strategy meeting before we do this," he said lazily. "There are two archers hanging out on the top of the castle. Let's just assume they're not illusions to be safe. Most of the next ramp is safe because of the railing, but don't get cocky. Once we're at the top of it and hiding behind the tower at the end, we wait for them to stop shooting before moving.

The only way of getting around that tower is to sort of shuffle on the narrow ledge around it. This obviously puts us back into view, which means they'll start shooting again. So then we have to hurry up the ramp on the other side, which lacks a protective railing. At the top, you need to head right but be careful that you don't get shot in the back. Once you get to the bend in the ledge, you're pretty much safe from that happening.

At that point, you'll be withing stabbing distance of one of the archers, who'll pull out his sword and shield. Obviously, it's pretty difficult fighting on a narrow ledge, so the easiest option is just to riposte him. This assumes a normal Undead doing all of this solo. We don't have that problem. Instead, I want Oscar to be a noise-making decoy while Priscilla runs up and knocks that one Knight off the ledge.

Once one archer is out of the way, it's pretty easy. We can all just edge around the unwatched side of the tower and then sprint up the ramp. The ledge is narrow enough that Oscar can block the arrows while the rest of us get to safety."

"A sound plan," the knight said. "Are we sure we didn't leave the Painted World with a fake Lex?"

"Hey."

Lex rolled off the bench and led the group to the left, stepping onto a matching one and up the next buttress. He jogged ahead to the square tower casually as the flurry of massive steel spikes caught in the thin railings on either side of him. Oscar showed a bit of caution but didn't seem especially concerned, and Siegmeyer's trust in the prophet was such that he yawned from the evening light as he made his way up. Only Priscilla, fully aware of those arrows' purpose and having to crouch for safety, jumped a little as each one struck. Still, they reached the tower without incident, and after a few moments out of sight, the sound of steel hammering into the masonry on the sides of the tower ceased.

"Go!" Lex hissed.

Priscilla swept her sleeve in front of her face again and vanished, gently pushing past the others and onto the ledge. After a moment, Oscar followed, stomping and swaggering so that his armor made enough noise to cover up the faint patter of her footsteps on the roof tiles. As he rounded the corner and stepped onto the buttress, the steel twang of one bow echoed and then the other. He dashed forward quickly as the shots rushed past him on either side and exploded into the stone of the tower behind him. Two more shots, and again, he was able to evade simply enough by hustling forward the instant they were loosed.

These, the most elite of knights, weren't even leading their shots to hit where he would be rather than where he was at the moment they fired. He could probably evade them with a brisk walking pace. It was indeed a puzzle to be solved rather than an intense challenge of skill. He hazarded a glance away from the path when he heard a small clank. On a turret edging out of the keep's corner, he saw a Silver Knight tumble forward suddenly.

Only silence followed, as the ancient knight hurtled the staggering distance to the ground below. Then the other blow twanged again, and he hurried out of the way. At the top of the buttress was another narrow ledge above which were a series of windows. He looked to the archer, who drew back a bow as large as the knight himself. The Silver Knight turned in place, instead pointing the bow back to the buttress.

Lex was running up the ramp at breakneck speed, so Oscar allowed himself to look back through the window. Though the glass was a bit dark and distorted, the room inside looked luxurious, if a bit gloomy. There was even a bonfire inside, for some reason. In fact, there was someone already seated before it.

"Captain?"

"Roll, Siegmeyer!" Lex shouted in Oscar's ear.

The Astoran looked back as the Silver Knight fired a final shot at the buttress. Siegmeyer groaned but nevertheless threw himself into the tiles, shattering them with his weight as he rolled under the projectile. With a bit of effort, he pulled himself to his feet and rushed to tag the wall, panting. The archer fired again, but Oscar stood ready and simply blocked it, though the force of the blow caused him to slide back slightly on the smooth masonry.

"Great!" Lex cheered. "Priscilla, where'd you go?"

"I am here," she said softly. "Around the corner. I am afraid that the footing is too narrow for me to crouch behind Sir – ah, my apologies – behind Oscar's shield."

"Right, my bad," Lex said, nodding. "Go ahead and drop down to the balcony. We're on our way."

Lex and Siegmeyer edged along slowly, holding tight to the wall as they did. Oscar simply shook his head and backed up cautiously until the archer lost line of sight. They rounded the turret and dropped onto a balcony below.


	33. And then something else happened

In the middle of the balcony was a large arch which led indoors. Walking inside, a hallway lay before them with a spiral staircase in the room beyond. Lex wasted no time in heading to the end of the hall and opening the closed door on the left. Inside was the room Oscar had viewed from the ledge. There was some miscellaneous furniture lying about and a dead fireplace.

At the other end of the room was a bonfire in the middle of the tile floor, standing amidst overturned benches. A knight was seated cross-legged before it, lost in thought.

"Captain!" Oscar shouted, waving.

"Oh, there you are," Solaire said pleasantly.

As Priscilla ducked under the door and then rose to her full height, the warrior of sunlight watched in awe.

"Amazing! You never fail to find interesting companions, do you Oscar? I must confess my own journey has been dull in comparison."

He chuckled a bit and pat the floor beside him.

"Come, there is plenty of room around the bonfire."

"Afraid we can't, Captain," Oscar said quietly. "The witch goddess is out for our blood."

"Why didn't you say so?" Solaire shouted suddenly, rising. "I would relish the chance of fighting such a foe alongside you!"

He looked at them, to the door, then back at them.

"Have you had a falling out with Witch Beatrice? After seeing her strength for myself, I would dread to face her in combat."

"We're not sure what happened to her," Oscar said as he and the others approached the bonfire to refresh. "Apparently, Velka already got her. We don't know if she's still on our side, Velka's side, or hollow."

"Dark news indeed," Solaire said grimly. "I can see your need to hurry."

He approached Priscilla, who was standing near the door since the bonfire would have no effect on her. As he drew close, he tucked his helm under his arm and extended a hand.

"We have not been acquainted, lady goddess. Though I wish we could have met under kinder circumstances, I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight."

"I am Priscilla," the crossbreed said nervously, extending a fluffy sleeve. "I am no goddess. I am half-demigod by blood, but my other half is monstrous as thou canst see."

"You are nothing of the sort," Solaire said politely as he tried to find her hand in the folds of the fur.

She quickly withdrew the sleeve before he could make any progress.

"Seek not contact with my flesh! My first victim was my nursemaid when I was a mere babe. This form is a vessel for the power of Lifehunt and little more."

"I see," the knight said grimly. "But no matter how grave this power may be, do not think it is all you are. The circumstances of one's birth are but the beginning. The rest of the story is for you to tell."

"I will…try to keep that in mind," Priscilla said weakly. "I thank thee."

Solaire nodded and turned back to the returning Undead.

"Prophet Lex, what challenges lie ahead? I would prefer to explore the keep through summoning, but if we must hurry, I would appreciate not going in blind."

"Well, I think we can probably bypass most of it thanks to Siegmeyer. The main issue's going to be the boss fight against the Dragonslayer and Executioner. Priscilla wants to try talking first. If we're lucky, we won't have to fight at all. Odds are, though, Ornstein's going to be too much of a stickler for the letter of the Prophecy to listen to us without beating him first.

If that's the case, I need you and Oscar to try and hold him at bay while the rest of us fight Sm- Smoe…Smoff…Smoo…Smao…the fat one. Once he's down, Ornstein will become more powerful, but with five going at him at once, it won't be that big an issue. If you need healing, hide behind one of the pillars and shout for Estus. Oscar, you'll need to keep tabs on that and fight defensively. Solaire, obviously your lightning spears won't hurt Gwyn's Knight-Captain a whole lot, but they'll still be a good distraction if the need arises.

The main threats are usually pretty telegraphed. If either of them jumps, obviously you'll want to get out of the way before they land. Pretty basic stuff since the main difficulty of this test is usually the pressure of fighting the two of them at once. They might break out better moves since there are a lot of us, but maybe they can't because they're old at this point. I don't know how aging works for whatever species they are."

"They are demigods," Priscilla interrupted nervously. "Those who doth command power like the Lords and holdeth mastry o'er souls are considered true gods."

"That seems a little backwards, but okay," Lex said, shrugging. "In any case, I think I've said more or less everything. Don't get impaled – pretty obvious stuff. Let's go ahead and get a move on."

He led them out of the room and into the rectangular chamber to the left. As they walked around the spiral staircase, a Silver Knight rushed them, sword raised high. Solaire and Oscar were quick to action, rushing to the front with shields raised. The Knight's gleaming blade bounced harmlessly off the steel wall, and Priscilla's scythe silently flew over their heads to decapitate the taller demigod. As usual, no blood spilled from the wound, and the Knight's body erupted into souls.

On the other side of the stairwell was a hallway with two doors, much like the previous. Instead of a decorative archway above, there was a second-storey walkway supported by a large pillar. Lex turned to the door on the right and extended his hand invitingly.

"Siegmeyer, if you would."

"I would hate to seem a vandal. Surely, there is another way."

"It's fine. Jekyll and Hyde always Shrek the room they fight in, so there's probably some sort of divine reconstruction team lurking around. Just be careful. There's another Knight on the other side."

"Hm. If a prophet insists…"

The old knight took a few steps back and then rushed the door with his shoulder. Though it was made of strong, magical wood from Oolacile and was more than enough to deflect the blows of impatient Undead, the bolt locking it was mere steel, and it groaned and gave way under the weight of a charging bull. As Siegmeyer stumbled and tried to regain his balance, the spear-wielding Silver Knight directly ahead stepped forward and began to sweep its flanged spear. Lex had bolted through the door as soon as it was clear, and now he sidestepped around Siegmeyer and swung his claymore with both hands, blocking the spear with a dreadful clang. The demigod recovered quickly and backed into the corner with its shield raised.

"For reference," Lex said, cracking his neck as the others entered, "since my usual spell selection wouldn't be useful for this particular fight, I went with something different."

He sheathed his sword and clenched his left hand. It twitched and sparked before bursting outward in a clawing motion. A writhing scarlet flame danced along his palm, and he quickly tossed it into the corner. As the ball of fire flew through the air, it wobbled like a water balloon, and when it struck the Knight, it burst into lava. The molten stone poured over the demigod as it shuddered in agony, giving off a metallic shriek before collapsing and erupting into souls.

"Oh my god, that was way more gruesome than I was expecting."

"What is all this?" Priscilla said faintly.

"I swear I didn't-!"

Lex stopped when he saw she wasn't talking about the Knight-shaped chunk of smoldering rock in the corner but rather was glancing about the room itself. The walls were covered in mounted drake heads in countless colors. They grew in size as they neared the ceiling, with the largest being comparable to the imitation dragon outside the Undead Burg. Priscilla was naturally pale, but now she seemed a little whiter than usual.

"Right," Lex said awkwardly. "This is probably Ornstein's trophy room. I'm guessing this is before the Valley of Drakes was a thing."

He smirked.

"I USE ANTLERS IN ALL OF MY DEEEEE-COOOR-AAAA-TIIIIIING!"

Oscar jabbed him in the ribs.

"I…knew of Sir Ornstein's title," the half-dragon said, swallowing, "but I never had seen such as this. It is…terrifying."

"You knew him, right?" Oscar said cautiously. "He may fight us because of the Prophecy, but he would not treat you as mere game."

"Relax," Lex chimed in. "I mean, I'd think it was a little tacky if I met someone who had a bunch of mounted monkey heads, but…"

"Not helping, Lex," Oscar interjected, removing his helmet and glaring at the cleric.

"Ohhh!" Siegmeyer cried melodramatically. "Knocking over that door threw out my back! I'm afraid I'll have to stay behind! Come along, Priscilla, won't you help an old man back to the bonfire?"

She smiled faintly at the effort but was still ill-at-ease.

"Well," Solaire chuckled, "I don't know about that injury, but there is no reason for you to force yourself to fight the Dragonslayer. I'm sure the three of us can manage! We'll come back to get you when it's all over."

She nodded weakly before following Siegmeyer back out of the door. With the panic over, Oscar turned to look at the other Silver Knight in the room, standing on guard in front of some chests. Throughout the uproar, it had remained stock still.

"Well, that one is certainly disciplined."

"Yeah, he won't come after us unless it's obvious we're going for the crap behind him."

"Impressive, if foolish."

"I should get him one of those ridiculous British guard hats."

"I'm not going to ask."

Oscar put his helmet back on to punctuate the end to the banter.

"Well, this does change things," Solaire said curiously. "How should we adapt our strategy, Lex?"

"We don't," the cleric said, shrugging. "Pornstain is still the biggest danger, so it's safest if the two of you hold him off while I take out Smut. Like I said before, it just becomes a matter of not dying once he's alone. Play it safe, and we don't have anything to worry about. Incidentally, between his legs is a safe place to stand, if a bit awkward."

Solaire laughed heartily, "Well, if you're so inclined, I won't say anything."

"Well, actually, I'm arachnisexual," Lex said as he started up the stairs.

The second storey was more of a viewing platform than a real floor, so the cleric continued through the door, which was directly above the one below it. Now, they were on the walkway they'd seen from below, and Lex turned right and continued up a tall stairway that connected this building to the main one. At the end was a balcony overlooking a truly massive great hall. Lex approached the rail and pointed below, to much larger giant sentinels.

"Right, so these guys are a pain, but they're slow, as expected. There's also a Silver Knight archer on the other side. Basically, we just need to make a mad dash to the fog off to the right. Got it?"

"Understood."

"Loud and clear!"

Lex turned and followed the railing down to a landing before turning about and finishing the stairs. By then, one of the massive guards was plodding toward him. It raised its massive halberd and swung at the base of the stairs, but he hopped over it and rolled past the giant. He rounded a column and rushed up one final massive staircase to an elaborately-carved wooden arch. Seeing Oscar and Solaire close behind him, he pushed through the fog.

Immediately, he hit the ground and rolled out of the way of Ornstein's opening lunge, but the attack never came. He looked up casually.

"Oh, right, the cutscene."

Rather than reacting too early, he was much, much too late. The cathedral was already in ruins. Boulder-sized chunks of pillar and the limbs of Silver Knight statues were scattered across the shattered tile floor, and window glass provided an additional hazard along the sides of the room. The immense figure of Executioner Smough lay broken over the stump of one of the columns, a warrior with hair falling into his eyes standing atop him and twisting a pike through his chest. Nearby, one of the crimson-robed Sealers of New Londo stood frowning, arms crossed.

At the far end of the room was a display where three pedestals were set into the wall. On the center was a statue of the Great Lord himself, and to his left, the Princess. The statue at his right hand was conspicuously absent, though not as a result of the battle. It was before this display that lay the battered form of Dragonslayer Ornstein, sole survivor of the Four Knights who had served the Great Lord. He dragged his broken body toward the statue even as soul energy flowed from the breaks in his lion-headed armor like steam.

Greaves clanked as a figure walked alongside him, eventually overtaking him. Though normally demigods loomed over humans, the opposite happened as the small figure stood between the dying Knight and his Lord.

"Oh? My apologies," the human said, his gravelly voice resonating with the shattered glass.

He stepped aside and then straddled the demigod, grabbing the scarlet plume rising from Ornstein's helmet and jerking his head back. He slung a wicked sickle low with his free hand and slid it under the Dragonslayer's neck.

"Goodnight, kitty-cat," Lautrec hummed.

"Holy-!"

The three Undead immediately turned to face the newcomer.

"We meet again!" Lautrec said, chuckling in the back of his throat.

"You know," Lex began nervously, "I can appreciate killing them at around the same time to avoid the stupid power-up, but this is kind of sadistic. And not in the hot way, like with Quelaag."

While he was speaking, Oscar and Solaire passed through the fog behind him.

"You!" Oscar hissed.

"Me!" Lautrec teased. His tone became serious as he continued, "Out of consideration for the Prophet and that Warrior of Sunlight with whom I so frequently join in, ahem, 'jolly cooperation', I offer you the chance to walk away. The goddess' will be done. If you stand in our way, we will not hesitate to snuff you out like this Age of Fire."

"No bueno."

"I'm afraid I must refuse that offer, Knight Lautrec."

Lautrec said nothing as he stared at them over his shoulder for a few moments.

"So be it!"

He set one foot on Ornstein's back and moved to slice through the demigod's neck, but he snapped to attention as a loud crack echoed through the chamber. The statue of the Great Lord loomed closer and closer. The Knight of Carim was forced to abandon his prey as it toppled over and crushed the Dragonslayer beneath it.

"Just as well!" he snarled. "Hanser! Arnalt! The blue one is mine! Do as you please with the other two!"

He slung his paired shotels to the ready and stomped down the center of the room while the spearman and the sorcerer moved to his wings.

"I will kill him this time, Lex," Oscar said.

"Well, that doesn't help us with learning Fina's agenda, but just so you know, this _is_ where he's supposed to die."

Solaire looked at Oscar but said nothing.

"Right, so let's get this started. Solaire, I have some questions for the sorcerer. Mind if I take him?" Lex said, gesturing with his sword.

"Be my guest," the knight said grimly as he stared down the pikeman.

The cleric nodded in thanks and clawed at the air as he channeled his borrowed soul into Chaos flame. He threw the ball side-armed, and it landed short of the approaching trio, splashing at their feet and forcing them to split up. Lautrec came around one side and the pikeman, Arnalt, the other. The Sealer, Hanser, remained where he was and brandished his spear-like catalyst. Solaire and Oscar approached their respective opponents while Lex likewise stayed where he was and stared at the sorcerer.

"Just FYI, man, Yulva is dead, and Ingward kind of hates you," Lex said apologetically.

The Sealer grimaced.

"How did she pass?"

"Can't say. Blighttown's full of nightmares."

"Ah. She did go, then. I hope she found meaning in it."

"I could ask the Chaos sisters if they know anything."

"If we both survive this, I would appreciate that."

Lex drummed his fingers in the air. Hanser gripped his staff tighter.

"Well, I guess I'll start then," Lex said awkwardly as he took a step forward.

Meanwhile, Lautrec took a step forward onto Oscar's chest. The Astoran's ribs cracked under the pressure, but he was too furious to notice.

"What's the matter? Going hollow?" Lautrec jeered as he pressed harder.

Trying to fight the agile dual-wielder with a massive slab of steel designed to cleave demon flesh wasn't the best decision Oscar had made lately. Lex must have rubbed off on him. He let the Black Knight sword clatter to the ground and grabbed Lautrec's leg with both hands before the other knight could react. With a terrible crash, he threw the Carimin to the ground and spun to his feet, hands grabbing at his belt. In a flash, he had whipped Ricard's rapier to the fore. As Lautrec rose, he fumbled to open his visor and took a swig of Estus, the flame filling his broken chest and making breathing easier.

"You know," Lautrec began, chuckling, "when I saw how much larger your new sword was, I was wondering if you were compensating for something. I'm glad to see you have another that more accurately represents your size."

Oscar inhaled sharply but didn't let the Carimin get to him.

"Not very talkative this time, are you?" Lautrec continued. "Did I hit a sore spot? Don't worry, I'm sure you're a grower and not a shower. Honestly, I doubt anyone could be overcompensating as much as these so-called 'gods.' How insecure must one be to use their souls to outgrow giants?"

"Do you not serve a goddess?" Oscar said at last.

"Oh, yes, but she's the modest type. B-cup. None of that 'my cup runneth over' nonsense."

Oscar lunged forward, but Lautrec batted the blade down and closed the distance, smashing his elbow into Oscar's exposed face.

"Ah ah ah! Safety first! Let's get that visor closed."

Oscar snarled and slammed it shut with his free hand as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Lautrec was pushed back and nearly stumbled on some rubble.

"You see this ruin, don't you? These gods can't even defend their dead king's palace without tearing it to pieces. And we're supposed to restore their power? No, my friend, the Age of Man has come!"

"Man is no better!" Oscar roared as he slung his shield from his back and onto his arm.

Lautrec's hooked blade reached to rip it away, but the Astoran came with it, smashing into him. Before he could get away, Oscar had stabbed the sword cleanly through his gut.

"I'll be keeping this, then," the rogue knight snarled as he kicked Oscar away, taking the rapier with him.

Oscar slung his shield back onto his back and took a low, wide stance.

"A knight must excel in all forms of combat," he said calmly.

"An unarmed combatant must be many times more skilled than an armed one."

"Try me."

Lautrec rushed in for a quick sideswipe, but Oscar caught the blade on his forearm and grabbed his wrist. Before the Astoran could act, the other sickle whisked through the air. Oscar blocked this one as well, the twin blades slowly digging into his vambraces.

"Many times more skilled than a goddess' champion. I like the sound of that."

"Careful, friend. The goddess doesn't like it when someone else sets hands on her man."

The crossed arms on Lautrec's breastplate creaked as they loosed themselves from their long-held positions. In a flash, they unlocked from their embrace and shot forward, gripping instead around Oscar's throat. His coif provided some protection, but the divinely-enchanted armor was bending the chain and would soon strangle him. Instead of trying to escape and returning the advantage, he pressed forward, trying to take Lautrec to the ground. Suddenly, he got his wish.

The Carimin relaxed suddenly and rolled backward. He kicked and threw all four arms back, tossing the Astoran overhead. Oscar hit the ground hard and had the wind knocked out of him. Lautrec took his feet calmly and finally removed the rapier from his side, shuddering a bit as he pulled it free. He tossed it over his shoulder and relaxed as the embracing arms returned to their resting positions.

"It's over," he hissed. "Leave now, and I will refrain from gutting you like the lifeless fish you are."

Oscar rose unsteadily and reached for his Estus.

"No."

Lautrec lunged forward with a wicked overhand slash, but Oscar waved his finger tauntingly. As the blade came down, he parried with the back of his hand. As Lautrec was thrown off-balance, Oscar grabbed him and spun, throwing him into the window. The glass sprayed over the rogue knight, but he held onto the stone muntin bars on either side. Desperate, Oscar fell into a dead sprint and tried to shoulder Lautrec to his death.

Again, the armor's arms acted over their own volition and dragged the Astoran along as the Embraced tumbled through the air. The fall was rather short, as they landed on yet another buttress. They bounced and then rolled a short distance, sending a shower of shattered tiles to the streets below. Oscar struggled to get free, but Fina's armor just wasn't having it. With nowhere to go, he turned to the offensive, rolling on top and punching Lautrec in the visor repeatedly.

At last, the Carimin got his legs untangled and kicked Oscar away. Oscar scuttled backward a few paces, careful not to slip on the broken tiles. Both knights took their feet uneasily.

"I have the high ground," Oscar said raggedly as he readied his shield again. "Since Lex seems so interested in your motive, I'll let you live if you'll allow yourself to be bound."

Lautrec was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

"The high ground and a higher horse. I'll relish unseating you."

The knight of Carim swept with both his shotels, trying to hook Oscar's feet, but he jumped forward, bashing Lautrec off the narrow ramp with his shield. As the rogue fell, the arm clutching his shoulder grabbed Oscar's wrist. The Astoran grabbed at the side of the buttress frantically, but the smooth tiles provided no purchase.

"I hope you're happy!" he shouted down at Lautrec as his fingers slipped.

The rogue knight simply laughed. Above, there was the sound of feet clattering along the tiles. They skidded to a stop, then started again on some hard surface.

"Looks like your ride's here" Lautrec grumbled.

A fair-skinned demigod with long silver hair tied behind him was rushing down one of the support beams as fast as they were falling. He wore winter clothes in a deep blue trimmed with fur and a long scarf that trailed behind him as he ran. His left sleeve was pinned for lack of an arm, and his left eye was white like he was about to go hollow. He leapt off the beam and grabbed hold of Lautrec, who swore in surprise and struggled to get free. The stranger's hit the side of the keep and dug his feet in, gradually slowing their fall.

The sound of the Silver Knights' arrows shattering the masonry caused Oscar to wince reflexively. Abruptly, his fall was stopped with a sensation like being slammed into a steel cage. He swallowed to avoid screaming from the mass fracturing of his bones and reached for his Estus flask. He was in far too much pain to bother with the visor, so he simply rolled upright and flooded his helmet, coughing and sputtering as it ran up his nose. He stared up into the evening sky absently while he waited for his shattered body to mend.

The knight really wished there was a breeze, but that would be asking for too much in Lordran's frozen time. At last, he sighed and rose to a sitting position as he checked for any injuries that might have lingered. It seemed that he was sitting in a net suspended between two spears that would be large even for demigod use. The man that had grabbed Lautrec was long gone, and there was no sign of the net's origin. He flinched as he heard the sound again.

After a moment, something else seemed to fall in front of him. He quickly ducked as it swung toward him instead. Once it bounced off the wall and lost most of its momentum, he grabbed hold of it. It was a long, knotted rope. He looked up and gave it a tug.

It was affixed to one of the massive spears like the ones suspending the net, and the spear itself seemed firmly embedded in the wall of the keep. Oscar shrugged. This wasn't the strangest thing that had happened since he met Lex, and if it meant he didn't have to fight his way back from the bonfire to the cathedral, he wasn't going to question it. He sighed and grabbed hold of it.

"I should have known someone would make me climb something after all those times Lex said it…"


	34. She's got legs,She knows how to use them

When Oscar finally reached the cathedral again, Solaire was in the process of tying up Lautrec's companions with pieces of cloth armor Lex had collected.

"Oscar! You made it!" the prophet shouted, throwing his arms wide. "I honestly have no idea where those windows lead!"

"Yes, well, Anor Londo doesn't seem half as abandoned as you said. Someone made off with that madman, and some sort of trick archer shot a net under me while I was falling."

"What?"

"I was hoping you would know. You're not going to be a prophet for much longer if this sort of thing keeps happening."

"Eeeeeeeehh," Lex groaned. "We're done with the second act, more or less. We just need to get the Lordvessel upstairs and then it's off to collect the Lord Souls."

He paused.

"Well, there's some cleanup to be done here first, I guess. Who wants to go grab the others? Oh, and you guys can stop playing dead. It's not even convincing since all the important dead things explode into souls for some reason."

The massive body of the Executioner stirred. His battered armor creaked as the fallen demigod gave a one-fingered salute before letting his arm drop again in exhaustion. Now, the broken statue of the Great Lord shifted, and the Dragonslayer carefully dragged himself out from under it.

"Forgivest us. We did not expect such powerful challengers as a god's champion and a Sealer. Their third member was a fine warrior as well, though thou art no doubt aware. Please, a moment to catch my breath, and I shall guide thee to the Princess' chamber."

"You're not going to make us fight you anyway?"

Ornstein struggled to pull himself upright, using his spear to drag himself into a seated position. He sighed as he removed his lion-faced helmet. As a demigod, he still looked relatively young, but his face was weathered and scarred from centuries of conflict. His red eyes were sunken from eternal guard duty, and he needed a shave. The brilliant scarlet plume on the back of his helmet, it turned out, was his own hair, a high ponytail with bangs kept neatly out of his eyes.

"Protocol wouldeth dictate such. However, I was told of thee, prophet who courts the second princess of Izalith. I see no need to waste both our time when that traitorous witch," he snarled, "draws nearer with every moment."

"Uh. The last time someone knew that much about us, they were Velka in disguise."

"Then keepst thy suspicion. It will serve thee well."

The demigod forced his broken body to stand and descended the central platform. To the right of it was an elevator like the one that led down from the first bonfire. As it descended, he waved the group over.

"Right, actually," Lex began, "Oscar, why don't you take a breather and watch the prisoners? Solaire, go ahead and grab Siegmeyer and Priscilla. That way, we'll know for sure who's real and who's not and stuff."

Ornstein's eyes opened wide.

"Thou freedst the-"

"Hey, it's not like things can get much worse around here. Seriously, what were you guys even doing all this time? Seath's not even hard to kill, and he's literally just up the hill."

"Thou shalt show respect for the Duke-!"

"Dude, he kidnaps random women and turns them into giant blue penises. I wish I was making this up. I mean, seriously, two of them were even members of the Princess Guard."

"The situation is more complicated than thou knowst. Keep thine opinions to thyself when thou enterest the Princess' chamber."

"Wait, do you not know that's a fake? Like, even the sun is a fake."

Ornstein roared and lifted Lex into the air with one hand.

"Thou shalt speak no more until the Princess allows thee!"

"The sun…is fake?" Solaire repeated, dazed.

"Aww, crap."

"The lady Fina suspected as much," the Sealer said, intrigued.

"Look at what thou hast done!" Ornstein roared. "The sun is a symbol of the Flame! Without it, good Men will lose heart, and the wicked will seek to undo the work of the Great Lord!"

"Lord Gwyn was not faultless!" the Sealer hissed. "Or shall I give you a tour of my city? You'll love the bathing facilities!"

"Do not pinst the doings of Men on the Great Lord!"

"Gwyn empowered those monsters and then left us to die when they fell to Dark!"

"The Great Lord had already departed!"

"And yet of all his all-so-enthusiastic followers, only Artorias had the heart to come for us!"

By now, Oscar had recovered his weapons and was trying to snap Solaire out of the shock. He didn't notice when the Sealer slipped free of his bonds and took up his staff once more.

"I don't know if you are a coward, Lion, or a fool who knows only how to follow orders, but the world has no need for deities!"

As he waved his catalyst and built up soul energy, something creaked from the far side of the room. As the sorcerer fired a massive blob of energy at the injured Dragonslayer, the marble floor exploded half a dozen times. In a flash, the Executioner had crossed the room and smashed the orb away with his massive hammer. A terrifying throaty laughter rumbled out of the golden fatsuit as he approached the human.

"Smough!" Ornstein roared. "Not this one!"

The laughter turned to a long groan, and the monster let his hammer rest on the floor.

"Sealer, we were preparing a proper response to the spread of the Abyss. Only, shortly after Artorias stormed out on his own, Ciaran and Gough disappeared as well. We did not know how far the Dark would spread, so I dared not leave the capital undefended. With such a loss in our strength, the gods feared the worst and scattered so that the loss of one city might not steal Flame from the world."

"Lady Fina's version of the tale was not so optimistic."

"Thou mayst believe what thou wishes."

The Sealer grit his teeth, then sighed. He glanced at Oscar, who had one hand on his sword and at Solaire, who was hanging on Ornstein's every word.

"If you would let me, I will fetch your companions while you digest this. The bonfire in the meeting room, yes? You may kill Arnalt if I do not return."

The pikeman glowered at him but said nothing.

"Lex?" Oscar said, not turning away.

"Sure, why not? Obviously, Lautrec himself is kind of a dick, but they're not necessarily wrong for wanting to end the Age of Fire, even though it will totally suck."

"Then I shall return posthaste."

With that, the Sealer turned and began the long walk to the cathedral's exit.

"Thou remindst me of Artorias," Ornstein said thoughtfully, looking down at Lex.

"How so?"

"Thou art a fool who sayest too much, and thy choice of weapon is dreadfully impractical. Now, come. The Princess awaits thee."

Lex grumbled and got on the elevator at last. After rising what would be several storeys for a human building, they reached the next floor. Ahead was a bonfire and beyond it, stairs leading to double-doors sized for a demigod. Each door had a knocker in the shape of a lion's maw in the center. Ornstein approached and knocked.

A woman's voice streamed from inside, "Enter my faithful Knight."

Ornstein pushed both doors open, revealing a dimly-lit room. It was ornately decorated, with marble statues and gold leaf trim. Directly ahead was a massive divan, on which lay the massive Princess of Sunlight, a deity who dwarfed even the giants of Sen's Fortress. Sunlight filtered through curtains covering the window behind her, but much of her was in shadow.

"Thou hast journeyed far and overcome much, Chosen Undead. Come hither, child…"

"'suuuuuuuuup, Gwyndolin!"

She smiled faintly.

"Oh, Chosen Undead, I am Gwynevere, Daughter of Lord Gwyn, and Princess of Sunlight."

"Accualy is Dolan."

"I do not-"

"Gwyndolin, we can get you a shrink to work out your sister complex later because right now, we have Velka problems."

"What didst I-?" Ornstein began.

"Thou mockst a deity? Today hath been most enlightening," Gwyndolin said bitterly as an illusion of him formed on the end of the divan. "You humans have grown most bold."

"I think I might be an exception, actually," Lex said, shrugging.

"Arrogant too. I dealt with another such blasphemer not long ago."

"How many Chosen Undead do you go through? Seriously, just quit it with the tests and throw bodies at the problem until it works."

"Yes, I wonder," Gwyndolin said curiously. "The Prophecy speaks of a Chosen Undead. Long have I waited, only to find _two_ humans have passed Sir Sen's test this day."

"Actually, I came with a _bunch_ of other people."

The god paused. He floated down from his seat and rose atop the snakes that served as legs so that they shared the same eye level.

"Thou dost mean phantoms from other worlds, dost thou not?"

"Nah. Flesh and blood. Three knights, a witch, a king, and the crossbreed."

Even with the sun helmet covering the upper half of Gwyndolin's face, Lex could see his eye twitch.

"Thou wert aware of this, Sir Ornstein?"

"Thou wert young when the Prophecy was written, Princess. It was decided that thou shouldst be not informed of its constructed nature, that thou might safeguard it with all thine heart."

"Constructed?!"

"I was under oath to speak not of it. How fortunate that the Chosen Undead cannot keepeth his tongue from wagging."

Gwyndolin turned back and forth, trying to decide who to be more furious at.

"And that monster is loose?" he hissed.

"I have not seen for myself, Princess, but I have reason to believe this human."

"You know," Lex interrupted, "I wouldn't be throwing around words like 'monster'. I mean, at least she has _legs_."

Gwyndolin shrieked and blasted Lex through the open doors. He tumbled down the stairs and rolled into the bonfire. He yelped and quickly lurched out of it, writhing on the floor as his side was burned and healed at the same time.

"Do not speak as if thou knowst anything, human!"

Ornstein quickly blocked the way before Gwyndolin could continue.

"Please, Princess. He is a fool, but time is short for more reasons than thou knowst. Thy mother comes."

The god's fist was quivering with suppressed rage.

"Is there_ anything else_ I should have known?"

"The arrival of the Chosen Undead is a signal I have long awaited. The sleeping Lion awakes. With your leave, I will enact my plans."

"Do whatever is necessary to preserve the Flame."

"By your will, Princess of Dark Sun."

With that, Ornstein bowed, then leapt from the top of the stairs to the cathedral floor. He doubled back to fetch his helmet and then sprinted out the broken window. Gwyndolin descended the stairs slowly, his snakes making a sidewinding motion. With a wave of his hand, he lifted Lex off the floor and rotated him through the air until he was upright.

"What is your name, human?"

"Lex of Luthor, Prophet of Slaanesh. Though that's as fake as anything else around here."

"How delightful. The Chosen Undead is a confidence man."

"Naaah, I'm garbage at that sort of thing. I'm pretending to be a prophet so I don't have to constantly explain how I know the future."

"And how, pray tell, would that be?"

"Are you a fan of novels? Great epic poetry, perhaps? Have you ever pretended that you could be there – save the heroes who die, stop the villain's dastardly plans? Yeah, that's pretty much what's happening here. No clue how it happened, but this is all much too coherent to be one of my dreams. I'm a visitor from a world without Flame or Dark."

"What blasphemy-"

"I'm guessing you didn't know that the Dark can travel through time either."

"Preposterous-!"

"Yeah, Quelaag didn't believe me either, but then I found a bunch of missing people. I could bring you some sort of proof. Like Artorias' Silver Amulet or Ciaran's Tracers or Gough's Greatbow. Or all of those. Seriously, they all went to Oolacile and then missed each other entirely."

"Art thou going to allow me speak or interrupt immediately again?"

"Well, you just kept dismissing me, so I tried to explain further."

"Human, if thou recovered but one of those treasures, I would have my great-uncle the Allfather declareth thee a saint. Since that is unlikely, be silent in thine empty boasts and speak of thy relationship with my mother the Raven."

"Honestly, I'm not really sure what's going on, but she kept trying to kill the people I was traveling with. Maybe to keep you ignorant? I don't know. She did know who Slaanesh was, though, which means she can either read minds or is related to whatever brought me here, and I'm not sure which is scarier."

"Reading the minds of humans can hardly be considered a feat, Alexander-"

"Whoa! Stop! Get out of there before you find something awful! I can't clear my browsing history in my brain! And I mean, seriously, if you could do that, why didn't you just verify my story to begin with?"

"I did. It is easier if I make thou think of the topic beforehand."

"And you still don't believe me?"

"Thou art Undead and hath been manipulated by the Raven. That is twice the reason to doubt thy memory."

"That…is actually a really good point. Though the Chaos might have burned out anything like that. I should ask if there's a way to make sure when I go back."

"And of course, the Chosen Undead doth traffic with demons."

"Oh, please. You don't even know what they look like."

The god huffed.

"Then be so kind as to enlighten mineself."

"Well for starters, most of them have legs-"


	35. Smoother than the Robot Devil

"It is a pleasure to meet thee at last, Princess," Priscilla said curtsying.

Gwyndolin simmered under his crown but deigned to return the greeting.

"I have heard much of thee, Madam Priscilla. It was my understanding that thou wast banished from Anor Londo. Hath that changed?"

He would be cordial, if only to preserve the last vestiges of dignity in Anor Londo. Still he couldn't get over being forced to make a live appearance after Priscilla's power destroyed his double and nearly blacked out the illusory sun. Nor was he pleased that he had no recourse but to personally drag the man-sized stone bowl all the way down to the bonfire. The Chosen Undead then somehow managed to stuff it into his woefully inadequate handbag. Fate was unkind.

"It hath not. I beg thy forgiveness, but I feared Sir Ornstein would not believeth a warning brought by humans. I offer what convenience this cruel power might provideth in dispelling our honored mother's illusions. If it is thy royal wish, I shall return to mine exile with all haste."

The god inhaled deeply.

"There will be no such confrontation. I have bestowed upon the Chosen Undead the Lordvessel, that he might fulfill the Prophecy and succeed _my father_. The Raven would hardly followeth him into the Lords' domains. I have been made aware of the truth of things, so she needeth not trouble his party any longer. Return to thine exile, crossbreed, and never again set foot in Anor Londo unless commanded to do so."

Priscilla's polite smile was impenetrable.

"By thy-"

"Oooooor!" Lex interrupted, "You could travel with us! Or not travel with us and just hang out with the collection of people we've got downstairs! We have a skeleton with a beard now! I don't even know how that works, but it's so metal!"

"Art thou gainsaying my divine-"

"God, you're more of an ass than _my _younger brother. Better dressed, though."

"Do. Not! Call that _monster_ my sister! My sister-!"

"-left you alone in a castle with three old men, one of whom was a cannibal. I don't see the appeal."

Gwyndolin made several faces while he tried to answer.

"Right, so I'll leave you to rule this empty shell of a city while I go rebuild Izalith to be the dominant world power in the next Age of Fire. Age of Chaos! Wait, that's probably a bad idea. It's going to be ridiculously metal, in any case."

Priscilla turned and bowed to Lex.

"I thank thee for thine concern, but mine exile is for the safety of all. If I am not careful, this power doth destroy all things nearby."

"Well, I mean…" Lex started, scratching the back of his head. "Wait! Guard duty! One of the sisters always has to stand guard in case the Bed of Chaos starts spewing up new demons or something. You already do that. This would be the same thing but where it's really hot instead of really cold."

"That-! If thou wouldst have me!" Priscilla said eagerly, accidentally knocking over Gwyndolin with a wag of her tail. "Oh, I beg thy forgiveness, Highness!"

While the siblings were working that out, Oscar approached Lex and whispered, "I've been meaning to ask this for a while. Are you the type that brings home stray dogs? Because this is ridiculous. The Raven-haired Witch's half-dragon daughter? Really?"

"No, but I was never a Pokemon Master, and it's always haunted me."

Oscar glared at him but moved on to stand beside Solaire.

"Hm. What of our former foes?" Siegmeyer asked, arms crossed in thought. "I know they accompanied that ruffian, but I don't think they're bad people themselves."

"Right, and with us stealing the Painted warden, Uncle Dolan doesn't have a place to put them."

He turned to the duo. Since there wasn't much they could do with so many enemies around, they let Hanser untie Arnalt, and now they were talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Yo, Wonder Twins!" Lex shouted, waving at them. "What are your plans if we let you go? I mean, obviously, you know what happens when the Dark is left to its own devices."

"I do," the Sealer said grimly. "But I also believe that Fina may be right. The Dark has never been left to its own devices. Every time it nears, it is pushed back."

"True. I've heard many times that the nature of Dark is peaceful, but then everything that lives in the Dark tries to murder me. Funny story, actually – I hollowed once and was brought back by-"

"What?!"

"Yeah, no one ever believes that, but anyway, I did keep some vague memories of the experience. It was some sort of crazy hivemind thing, but more importantly, I remember that I had an all-consuming urge to snuff out…"

He paused, eyes going wide. He began singing, terribly out of tune as usual.

"Snuff out the light! Claim your right! To a world of darkness!"

Oscar threw his shield at him.

"Ow! God! Fine! The point of the story is that it looks like bog-standard souls aggravate the Dark."

"Interesting," Hanser hummed, rubbing his chin. "Setting aside the matter of your alleged resurrection, this could be an interesting avenue of study."

"Yeah, just don't go crazy like everyone else. In any case, where would you be going for this study? I just need to know if I have to tell the spiders that more people are on the way."

"I would first seek the Duke's Archives, if you would be so kind as to release Gwyn's seal upon it."

"Going to be honest, I have no idea how that works and am drastically disappointed that clerics were never given spells to create magic barriers. But yeah, I need to get something from the Archives anyway, so just roll with us for now. Anyway we'll go ahead and get out of your hair, then, Uncle Dolan."

"Good riddance," the god huffed.

"Praise the Tsun!"

While Gwyndolin tried to parse the expression, Lex turned to the large elevator and waved.

"Right, so we just need to pick up Jeremiah and find Beatrice, assuming they haven't killed each other over something stupid. Then we get to experiment with the mechanics of bonfire warping. It'll be really inconvenient if it only works for me. I'm kind of expecting it'll work for groups but maybe only for humans. Science!"

"Bonfire… warping?" Solaire said, puzzled. "As with wood?"

"You know what? I could probably just check this out right now instead of making everyone do a lot of walking first."

He whirled about and walked through the group to the bonfire. He extended one hand toward it.

"Basically like wood, yeah. But with spaaaaaaace!"

He focused on the image of the first Anor Londo bonfire. Though he and the bonfire remained in place, the world moved around him, the floor rising above him and the cathedral rushing away. In a blur, he crossed the long road from Gwyn's keep, shot up the elevator shaft, and slid down the stairs to the bonfire. The Fire Keeper didn't flinch, but Jeremiah fell over backward.

"Goodness! Dost thou wish to scare an old man to death?"

"Uh, my bad, I guess."

The king breathed out.

"No harm, no foul, I suppose. But I'm afraid I have bad news regarding thy witch friend."

"I threw her insensate body from the parapet," the Knightess said before he could continue. "She has not been reborn as yet, so I will assume she passed without leaving a hollow."

"What the…? What?"

"She forced entrance to the Great Lord's tomb. As punishment, her mind was broken. I disposed of her body so that the mad Duke could not claim it."

Lex knitted his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You have my condolences, but know that any attempt at vengeance will be met with force."

"Oooookaaaaay. Jeremiah, grab my arm or something."

The old king looked confused.

"Dost thou not-?"

"Just do it."

"Like so?"

Jeremiah placed one hand on the arm Lex still held toward the bonfire.

"Come on and slam and beat up Gwyndolan!"

Anor Londo rushed past the men as they hurtled from the human-sized entrance hall in the city's wall to the balcony overlooking the hall where the Great Lord held court. When they abruptly materialized out of the fire, the rest of the group had varied reactions, with the worst being Siegmeyer falling over and rolling a distance. Lex turned to Gwyndolin and pursed his lips. The rest of the group looked on expectantly. Gwyndolin turned his head side to side as it dawned on him that he was surrounded by humans whose strength was acknowledged by the legendary Dragonslayer.

"Wh-what dost thou-?"

"You know what you did."

The silence continued for a few moments before Oscar said, "Well, we don't."

"I just heard from his friend the Fire Keeper that he fried Beatrice's brain and had her body disposed of. She's allegedly dead for good, but I'm going to hold on the mourning until we know she's not playing an elaborate prank."

"Beatrice was…oh dear…" Siegmeyer said quietly.

"Knowing Beatrice, I can't really blame you for killing her, permanently or otherwise, but letting your girlfriend be the one to tell us is kind of pathetic."

Lex was grinning, but his hands were shaking.

"Thou art a fool, and thine ally trespassed on the tomb of the Great Lord. Her punishment was just, and there existeth nothing that obligateth mineself to inform thee of her fate. I tolerate thy blasphemies of desperation; in truth, thou shouldst have been put to the Executioner's block long ago."

Lex started to say something again, but Oscar stopped him. He looked to Solaire, who nodded.

"Thank you for your time. We'll be leaving now. Come on, Lex."

The cleric sighed and focused on the bonfire.

"All right. Everyone link hands. Priscilla, if this doesn't work for you, just hang tight."

The city rushed past again, and the group found itself at the first bonfire, short one crossbreed. The Fire Keeper was also gone, it seemed.

"That makes sense, I guess," Lex said calmly. "Someone else see if you can do it without me."

The three knights and Jeremiah all extended their hands to the fire without hesitation, but it gave no reaction even despite rather enthusiastic grunting from Siegmeyer.

"Experiment number two," Lex said, nodding.

He unclipped his bag and handed it to Oscar.

"Okay, now try it."

This time, the knight vanished immediately with a roar of the flame and reappeared a few moments later with the same fanfare. He gave the bag back to Lex.

"Priscilla said she would walk with Gwyndolin," he said. "One of us ought to meet her at the bridge. The others can stay here and rest while Lex takes Jeremiah home."

"Well," Siegmeyer chuckled, "since I didn't do any fighting, I suppose I can suffer through a little walking."

As he pulled himself up and clanked up the stairs, the other knights removed their helmets. They made eye contact, and Oscar pulled Lex aside.

"You don't have to hurry back. With Velka off our tails, we can afford a little break."

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting. Especially with Siegmeyer's circumstances."

Oscar nodded.

"Saving Sieglinde is important… but you need to take care of yourself, first. You're laughably underqualified, but you are our leader. I don't know what to do with this ragtag group. So go back to Blighttown and relax. Have terrifying demon spider sex or whatever it is you're trying to do. Just know that whatever happened to Beatrice… it isn't your fault."

"She wasn't supposed to-"

"I wasn't supposed to be here at all. You win some; you lose some. You said you weren't used to this sort of thing, but everyone else here is. I don't know about the new ones… but you can always talk to the Captain or Siegmeyer or myself. You could probably talk to Quelaag, but she might eat you since you're showing weakness. Just… take care of yourself, Lex."

The cleric nodded, and Oscar gave him a firm pat on the back.

"Good. Now get going. I think if I keep you any longer, his highness will rip my head off."

Sure enough, Jeremiah was pacing beside the fire, occasionally making deadly glares at Oscar.

"Sorry about that!" Lex said, snapping back to his usual self. "Is your heart ready? Quelaav's condition is kind of, uh…"

"I am ready as I ever shall be. Waiting only deepens my dread."

The cleric nodded silently and reached for the bonfire. The towers under the soft light of evening gave way to the starkly-illuminated walls of Sen's Fortress and late afternoon. The ruins of the Parish passed and Firelink Shrine's calm noon. The rotten wood and darkness of Blighttown erupted from below, and they were encircled by walls of silk.

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

"Oh, hello," a weak voice said. "You are… Quelara? No, the prophet. And… Father?"

Jeremiah nearly bowled Lex over as he rushed past to hug Quelaav. The cleric awkwardly tiptoed away, waving to a speechless Eingyi. He rapped on the false wall, and it slid away to reveal the circular chamber beyond. It was mostly unchanged, but the sound of construction had overwhelmed the quiet gurgle of lava outside. As he rounded the stairs to the bell chamber, he looked out on the Demon Ruins.

Broken Silver Knight statues were setting up scaffolding to expand the ruined bell tower around which Quelaag had built her nest. In the distance, the lava lake had dried up, and Ceaseless Discharge looked on as the Black Iron Golem fought a half-dozen Taurus Demons at once. Vamos had tucked himself away in a desolate corner and was hammering away at a lava-heated forge while Quelara watched.

"I may have judged you prematurely."

Lex's noise-enhancing armor made a racket even when he wasn't trying to do so. Quelaag had managed to hear him from outside the tower.

"You're not surprised that I just showed up suddenly?"

"Father has been keeping us apprised of the situation."

"Ah. He's, uh, downstairs, if you want to…"

"I spoke with him enough. He and I were not as close as with the others. Mother gave us each a purpose. Mine was to destroy that which would hurt us. It has always been difficult to accept… additions.

Poor Kikurinus suffered terribly before I allowed his appointment as captain of Quelaav's guard. I wonder if he still has that scar."

"Soooo…" Lex said excitedly.

"So I will accept your proposal, Lex of Luthor. Give me your hand."

He absently held up his right hand.

"The other one."

He shrugged and switched. She hunched over and slipped a bright red ring on his finger. It was comprised of a number of interweaving bands covered in small decorative thorns.

"Well, at least I got my tetanus shot recently."

_Ring of Fury_

_One of the special rings crafted for the Daughters_

_of Chaos. The Ring of Fury belonged to Quelaag,_

_who led Izalith's legions._

_Boosts attack speed to overwhelm foes with a_

_flurry of blows. Quelaag's ire was easily provoked,_

_and her skill with dueling swords was unmatched._

While he was reading the description floating in his eyes, she hooked him on one arm and lifted him up. There was an unexpected sensation. An uncomfortable, feverish warmth and a faint smell of brimstone – but an enveloping softness. His breath caught, and before he could react, the kiss was over. Quelaag set him down gently.

"With this, our betrothal is official. We shall be married when you have sufficient wealth as to provide a dowry. Quelara, acting as my mother, has agreed that the promised humanity will do."

"What?" Lex squeaked.

"You can provide a more substantive dowry if you wish, but my sister is aware that adventurers such as yourself possess little more than their equipment."

"No, I mean, like, uh, isn't there more to this than that? There's no need for a big, formal, loveless political marriage at the end of the world, is there? We've still only met like three times, and I died during one of those."

"It is the end of the world, isn't it? All the more reason to hold an elaborate wedding party. And let's be honest: how many suitors am I going to have?"

The spider opened its mouth and licked Lex's face for emphasis.

"Fair points, but I don't exactly have a great track record with long-term relationships."

"Then we'll have an elaborate divorce party. Don't worry so much about it. Quelara and Vamos turned out fine, and I'm not sure either of them is even capable of loving others."

"Wait, that's how you knew Vamos?"

"We were all surprised when sister agreed to it. She was the only one of us to be married in the end. I was never interested, and it would have been scandalous for my younger sisters to marry before me."

She glanced down at him and turned to leave.

"Since you seem to have accepted our engagement, I must return to my vigil."

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"I want a do-over! I had prophet stuff in my eyes!"

The witch smirked.

"Well, you had best hurry to collect that humanity."


	36. More human than human

**Author's Note: This chapter gets a little more violent than usual at the end. Nothing too intense, but thought I should give a heads-up.**

THE ABYSS

Beatrice had wondered if she was cursed long before she fell Undead. Her mother, a prostitute, had succumbed to illness when she was very small. Afterward, she went to live with her father, who may or may not have been, and his a band of mercenaries. They had been betrayed and slain to a man. The rats and crows were already eating their fill by the time she felt it safe to leave her hiding place.

The witch of the nearby forest took pity on her and took her as apprentice. Under the old witch's tutelage, she grew to maturity and power. Unfortunately, that land would come to be a part of Vinheim, where the Dragon School had a monopoly on sorcery. Unlicensed magic-users were considered a threat to public safety and were stamped out. Yet, the bodies of the team sent to arrest the old forest witch were never found.

Beatrice's humanity roiled within her as her life played out again and again in her mind. There, they lived once more. The memories of Undead faded swiftly, but the humanity remembered. Mother, Father, Grandmother, Hans, Eldin, Ranc, and all the others were there, bubbling just beneath her skin. Saints and fiends who fed on others would be lucky to have a dozen fragments of the Dark Soul.

Beatrice overflowed.

NEW LONDO RUINS

"She's beautiful," a cold, harsh voice whispered.

"I would not have troubled you for less" a powerful but nasal voice replied.

"As always, you have my gratitude."

"If you are satisfied, then I shall depart before that doddering fool notices something is amiss."

"Now, then. Be silent."

The humanity shuddered to a stop. The shadowplay Gwyndolin had began faded to black, and Beatrice's eyes fluttered open. Some dipshit's hand was in her face.

"Piss off!" she shouted, headbutting the hand out of the way and rolling off of the stone slab on which she had been placed.

She looked around for an exit or for her catalysts. They rested against the wall nearby, so she grabbed one in each hand and brandished them threateningly as she backed toward an open doorway.

"If you would."

Several pairs of terrifyingly long skeletal arms erupted from the walls and wrapped around her, holding jagged knives against various arteries. Any resistance would result in a bloody mess.

"Let me speak. If you still wish to leave after I have finished, you will be allowed to do so."

"You're not really giving me much of a choice, shitstain."

"Please, don't sully your tongue with such coarse language."

What he was saying was at odds with his growling voice and wild appearance. He had dark, sunken eyes and a mop of untamed gray hair. His armor was made of the yellowed and broken bones of some horrible creature, and the tattered remnants of a cape trailed behind him. Though obviously human, his power had swelled him to the size of a demigod. Beatrice was deadpan.

"I am the Undead King, Jareel, master of the Darkwraiths."

"I can see you're a feared leader, because none of them told you how stupid your hair is."

"Language aside, you certainly have the appropriate dignity."

"Let me go, and I'll dignify your face."

"As you command."

The Darkwraith swept his arm and bowed. The long-armed ghosts released Beatrice and drifted away through the walls.

"Okay, what gives?" she growled, lighting her catalysts with energy.

"We have long awaited our Lord. There have been many Undead Kings following the Four who rose in New Londo. They were one and all crushed under the weight of their humanity and became wraiths bound to the Abyss. I fear this too shall be my fate. But you!

You bear a great deal of humanity already and are not burdened by it. You may yet live and become our true Lord. But allow me the honor of teaching you the Lord's art, Lifedrain, and this world will break for you."

"Well, I don't make a habit of hanging around kidnappers, but power is always a great incentive."

"A wise decision. But first, a test to measure your conviction. On a walkway overlooking this place is an old man in red, one of the Sealers who thought it better to drown an entire city than let us rule it. I cannot approach, for his magic wards against those sworn to the Dark. You have no such restriction. Bring him to me alive, one way or another, and I will show you firsthand the power of Lifedrain."

"Sure thing, Bedhead King. Beating up crusty old guys is a hobby of mine."

Beatrice kept her eyes on the Darkwraith as she backed away, passing through the low doorway. Sure that he wasn't pulling anything, she turned to get a handle on her surroundings. She'd entered a room with a number of the absurd decorative vases that were a part of Londo culture. Faintly glowing skeletal ghosts flowed through the walls while they watched her. Ghosts were typically rare.

It was possible for powerful and twisted sorcerers to create them deliberately using their mastery of the soul, but under natural generation required rare circumstances. In general, the soul to be transformed had to undergo emotional turmoil of such strength as to twist it and bind it to the world. The soul needed to experience such trauma that it was utterly incapable of other thoughts at the moment of death. They were more common before the Darksign became prolific. Traumatized Undead tended to cling to their physical bodies and become unusually powerful hollows called revenants instead.

Seeing one ghost was a unique experience. In some occasions, phenomena like entire ghost families were not unheard of. The number of ghosts floating about even the building in which Beatrice found herself was unspeakable. A hand went to her mouth as her own traumas came to mind again. She swallowed the bile building in the back of her throat and continued.

The archway on the left led deeper into the building, but the one on the right led to a hallway and another archway that opened to the rest of the city. New Londo had been built in a massive cavern. Its original purpose had been to sequester a society of philosopher-sorcerers who sought to learn the ways of the soul. In time, they found the need to share their discoveries, and as their interaction with other nations grew, the city grew larger and less closed. Eventually, it became a grand metropolis ruled by philosopher-kings but populated by the many people who supported their way of life.

Though the city remained a secular one, it kept strong ties with the gods in Anor Londo above. The sorcerers sought to become more godlike without falling into the blind fervor that so often overwhelmed the clergy. In recognition of their work, the Lord of Sunlight gave the Four Kings a fragment of his soul to study and to share amongst themselves. Only, they soon delved into the Dark as well as the Flame. The "wise and noble" Healers sealed the city on orders from Anor Londo and flooded the chasm before the Kings – or any of the countless civilians – could learn of their plan.

The slick stone was covered in mold and moss, and the black, brackish water went on forever. The sorcerous lights had long run dry, and the only light came from a hole in the cavern roof an impossible distance above. The path to the right had collapsed, so Beatrice turned to the left. Ahead was a long staircase leading to a sheltered walkway. From the top of the stairs, the walkway continued to a balcony.

Directly ahead was indeed one of the red-robed Sealers, a long beaked mask covering his face. In his right hand was the long, pointed catalyst of his office, and in the left was one of the wickedly sharp knives created of the ghosts' malice. He turned to face the witch as she approached.

"Well, this is a surprise. I don't get many visitors, except for ghosts. Do you have some business here? My name is Ingward. I'm an old man, bound to these parts.

But I don't mind a chat. I may even be of some help."

"How do you justify it?" Beatrice hissed. "All these people clamoring about the Dark, the Dark! They say the same things about that stupid shit pyromancy, you know. Isn't the real danger the sorts of people who think they're so right that they purge anyone who doesn't belong? Tell me: why shouldn't I blast you off that ledge and let you drown like you deserve?"

"The Darkwraiths are the enemies of Man and any living thing that has a soul!"

The Sealer took a defensive stance but didn't make any sudden moves.

"Oh?" Beatrice said vacantly. "What do they do? Kill a few people here and there? Even the damned Knight of Thorns doesn't have a whole city to his name!"

"I see. I thought to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you did come from below. It's already gotten to you, hasn't it? The Darkwraith I've kept trapped in the great hall."

"You arrogant shit. You don't even consider King Fartmeal human anymore, do you?"

"That creature abandoned its humanity the moment it made a Covenant with the Dark."

"I don't think humanity means what you think it means, prick."

Beatrice's blank white eyes shimmered. The lighting in this cavern was much more amenable than the horrid gleam of Anor Londo. The glow of the Sealer's soul was the harshest light in the chasm, though the faint glow of countless ghosts illuminated the internal lake. A small shadow writhed under the Sealer's skin, with eight pinpricks of light staring at her.

"Four sprites," the witch said plainly. "Pretty ordinary amount. But how many did you have in your prime, to have lived this long?"

"I don't understand."

"That's right. You don't."

She thrust her tin banishment catalyst forward threateningly.

"That's-! So, you're hunting us! You will not have the Key to the Seal!"

The Sealer raised his own catalyst and formed a mass of souls above his head. Beatrice was faster, though, and fired the Moonlight Butterfly's scattershot laser, the needle-like beams piercing through his limbs. His souls dispersed, and he fell to one knee.

"If it's come to this," he snarled, "perhaps I should give up on waiting for the Chosen One to defeat your Dark masters! The Seal will never be opened!"

He tore a silver chain from his neck. A key dangled on the end. He threw it into the endless depths and glared back at Beatrice with a desperate grin.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, you self-absorbed shit!"

She fired a flaming soul arrow at his good leg, and he collapsed, screaming. She approached grimly as he tried to drag himself to the edge. Before he could throw himself over, she stabbed the spear-like catalyst through one leg and held him back.

"Funny story, though! The Chosen Dipshit is one of my pals! Guess you should think things through more carefully! Like drowning an entire godsforsaken city!"

She took her sturdy old wooden staff in both hands and took a golf swing at his head. He screamed again but stopped struggling, so she kicked his knife away and slid his catalyst toward herself. With a grunt, she pulled the matching one from his calf and bent over to pick up her new acquisition. She slid them both under her arm and grabbed the Sealer's foot. She dragged his insensate body behind her as she descended the stairs again, his mask clattering against each step as his head bounced off the edges.

She dragged him into the long room where the Darkwraith waited without hesitation, his crimson robes collecting shattered bits of bone as they dragged the floor. The massive Man raised his eyebrows when he saw the trail of blood behind them, but he bowed as Beatrice dropped her prey.

"How brutal, my Lord. I, myself, am more fond of dismemberment, but such is your prerogative."

He stooped over to lift the Sealer onto the slab on which Beatrice had awoken not so long ago.

"Do your worst, Darkwraith," he coughed.

"Oh, I will, rest assured, dear Ingward. But first, I must show my young Lord the basics."

Jareel turned to face Beatrice and raised his left hand to her eye level.

"For one as attuned with the Dark as I, there is no visible sign of my power, but for a beginner, it looks something like this."

Something black began to ooze from his hand like congealed flame, and it emitted rays of a sort of anti-light.

"The Dark is hungry, so for those who haven't learned to control it, it disperses and tries to glut itself on the ambient energy nearby. One can use this behavior to defend oneself."

He held the back of his hand forward, and shadow pulsed from it. The darkness whirled in the air and distorted the space around it, creating a plane of solid force.

"But Dark is a fundamentally consumptive, inward-focused force. It's at its strongest when it's kept in its place. These poor fools unwittingly created the perfect bed of Darkness when they sealed New Londo. The humanity of its inhabitants had nowhere to go but down. The Abyss here cannot be compared to any of the others.

It drains away the humanity of any living intruders, and those who have sworn to the Dark are immortal within. Such power will be yours in time, Lord. Rather than open it and let its shadows disperse, better to let it fill a worthy vessel until the true Dark has fallen. To that end, we must strengthen you with still more humanity, Lord. Behold, the art of Lifedrain."

The Darkwraith placed his hand gently atop Ingward's mask. Abruptly, his whole arm tensed like rigor mortis, and the Dark light that formed the features of humanity sprites shone from his fingertips. The Sealer gasped as one of his humanity sprites was ripped from him to join the pitch-black morass that floated calmly beneath the Undead King's flesh. Another was consumed and another before Jareel released his victim and stepped away.

"He hangs to life by a thread. I leave the last for you, my Lord."

Beatrice tossed her metal catalysts aside, keeping a firm grip on her old wooden staff as she placed her free hand atop the Sealer's mask. She focused carefully on the remaining humanity within his body and let the enormous mass within her do as they willed. Her fingers flared with the ghastly unlight, and the last bit of Dark within Ingward jumped to join her own. Bereft of fuel, his soul began to sputter. Bereft of hope, his soul collapsed upon itself and burst into its component energy.

His body lurched forward and moaned mindlessly. Jareel smirked and reached for a massive tarnished scimitar on his belt. With a quick slash, he decapitated the hollow, and it fell back to the slab.

"Excellent, my Lord. Your talent is true."

"Well, that was fun," Beatrice said grimly. "Really. You deserve a proper reward."

"Lord, I could not accept-" the Undead King started.

The witch whirled around and reached up to jab her fingertips in his eyes. Her own blank eyes shone with the Dark light of humanity, and the countless sprites within her were stirred into a frenzy.

"You're a monster too! I don't know what you were expecting shit-for-brains!"

"Don't think a youngling like yourself has the sheer weight of humanity to unseat-!"

Jareel was one of the greatest Darkwraiths since their inception at the fall of New Londo. He had slain hundreds in his time, but he had been tithed as the others had. He had suffered occasional death and loss of humanity as the others had. Eventually, he had been trapped by Ingward and had been forced to let his humanity dwindle. Beatrice had died but once and was young and hale.

Until she had come to Lordran, she had never stopped gathering humanity. Something black began to ooze from her mouth. She licked her lips. The sprites that Jareel had been suppressing grew restless within him. As he struggled to resist the sheer gravity of her humanity, she lunged forward and tore into his throat.

The Dark rushed out of him, and he withered as his power fled, his armor hanging loosely on him until he could bear its weight no longer. He collapsed in a heap, but Beatrice followed him down, blood smearing across her face. She gave one last jerk, and he stopped moving, a ruined husk. She rose, wiping herself clean with the back of her sleeve. The ghosts drifted about aimlessly, still not seeing her as an enemy.

"Now," she said, voice cracking, "I wonder where the others are."


	37. My body is ready

ANOR LONDO

"Right, so let's go ahead and split into two groups."

Now that everyone had gotten used to the notion of warping, Lex's return hadn't received much fanfare.

"We're actually _not_ going to collect the Lord Souls immediately. Well, we're going to collect _a_ Lord Soul, but it's not one of the ones you're thinking of. We would probably be better off collecting three of the others and then going to get this one, but it's more interesting to get this one first. Anyway, because of this, we need to split into two groups. The first group will escort Priscilla down to the Parish bonfire, while the second will head up to the Archives.

I'll go with the Archives group initially. Once I've achieved my objective there, I'll warp back to the Parish. There, I'll take Priscilla down to whatever we're calling New Izalith while you guys just hang out and keep Andre company. Once Priscilla's in good hands, I'll warp back, then I'll lead you down to a bonfire in the Basin. There, you'll be stuck waiting again until I get back from tearing open a hole in time."

The group looked amongst each other awkwardly.

Oscar was the first to speak: "This is probably the strangest thing you've said."

"Forgivest me for putting thy plans in disarray," Priscilla said quietly, "but I would travel first to the Ducal Archives if thou wouldst allow it. I wish to know what has become of my father, and… perhaps speak with him again before thou slayst him."

There was another awkward silence, and Siegmeyer and Jeremiah each put a hand on her shoulder. They shared an uncomfortable glance, each too nervous to be the first to remove his hand.

"Um, no, yeah, that's fine. The plan doesn't really change much. The second group can just hang out here, and then we'll warp to the Parish when I'm done in the Archives."

The Fire Keeper swore under her breath.

"So then, Archives group will be Hanser, Arnalt, Jeremiah, Siegmeyer, and Priscilla."

"Oho?" Siegmeyer said. "Is there some reason in particular why I should go to the Archives? The groups seem a little lopsided. Books aren't that dangerous, you know."

He laughed heartily, but Lex gave Jeremiah a knowing look.

"Well, I thought you'd enjoy it after the story about learning the giant language, but there actually is something for you in particular to do there. Fate is a bit unkind to you, so I'm trying to head it off."

"Oh my," the old knight murmured. "Well, I will trust in your judgment, my friend."

"All right, then," Lex said, nodding. "Let's go raid the Archives."

The Archives group rose and headed up the stairs. From the plaza, they turned left and headed into the large room jutting out of the wall. Opposite the open archway leading in was a statue of the Executioner flanked by giant sentinels guarding wooden chests. Lex stayed well out of their way as he exited through the archway on the right to a balcony overlooking the city. Leading away from the towers and arches, curving alongside the wall, was a long staircase dug into the cliffside.

A giant sentinel blocked the path here as well, but before anyone could ask about a battle plan, Priscilla's presence shattered the illusion. They climbed the stairs and then climbed a short distance up the hill at the end until they reached the entrance to a large building. A gleaming golden fog blocked the archway at the top of the decorative stairs.

"Oh. Right. I've made a mistake," Lex sighed. "I have to go talk to Fraaaaaampt. Be right back."

He turned and sprinted back to the bonfire. Before anyone could ask the awkward question of what he was doing back so soon, he focused on Firelink, and Anor Londo rushed away.

FIRELINK SHRINE

The Crestfallen Warrior had the most subdued reaction to his sudden appearance of anyone – he simply rubbed his eyes as if he were seeing things.

"So you're back. Well, we have a new problem. It's noisy, it snores, and its breath is lethal… This is no laughing matter, I tell you."

"I know! Have you seen it's fleshy mustache? It's terrifying!"

"It is, isn't it?" Wilhelm sighed. "I was really beginning to like it here… Maybe it's time I do something about it."

"Whoa there, hombre!" Lex said quickly. "As a prophet, those are the last words you say to the Chosen Undead. I don't know if Frampt kills you or just tricks you into a suicide mission, but hold your horses there. I'll see if I can do something about it."

"Heh. I should have known. Getting so worked up about something isn't like me."

"Nah, man. It wasn't a bad idea. It's just that the Primordial Serpents are kind of awful. Like I said, I'll see what I can do about Frampt, but if you really want, I could take you down to Izalith, where we're rebuilding stuff. Not that the smell of lava is much better."

"Oh, no. I'm quite content to remain here. It's just the smell…"

"Right. I'll get on that, then."

The cleric headed up the Shrine, waving to Laurentius as he entered the main sanctum of the chapel. The water that had pooled on the floor was gone – in fact, the floor had split in two and opened up to reveal a horrifying monstrosity like a jack-in-the-box from a horror film. A bulbous head rose on a bulging neck with diseased-looking red slitted eyes, a fat nose with two hanging lobes like a mustache, and a lipless mouth filled with flat teeth the size of a man's head.

It spoke clearly with a powerful, if nasal, voice: "Ahh, hello. Was it you who rang the Bell of Awakening? I am the Primordial Serpent, Kingseeker Frampt, close friend of the Great Lord Gwyn. Chosen Undead, who has rung the Bell of Awakening. I wish to elucidate your fate. Do you seek such enlightenment?"

"Sort of. It's more like I have specific questions for you."

"Very well. I will endeavor to clarify your purpose."

"Right, so, what's your angle here? I am the prophet of Slaanesh, and I have foreseen that should the Dark Lord rise, you'll be right there to greet him alongside Kaathe. And, like, no one ever sees the rest of you. Are you guys different heads on the same body? And there are at least ten of you guys total, so are you running this world-spanning con job or what?"

"I see that bird has made a mess of things."

The Serpent shook its head, shaking the mustache lobes nauseatingly.

"If it makes you feel any better, Gwyndolin decided to stick with the plan even after I told him the Prophecy was a fake."

"Thank the heavens for small blessings. You are correct in part. My brothers prepare for the coming Dark, but I find Fire more pleasing to my tastes. We are joined in a communion of sorts, but we were birthed apart. Can I presume you know what it means to succeed Lord Gwyn?"

"Yeah. Light myself on fire and spend the next thousand years in agony while slowly burning up."

"Knowing this, you sought myself instead of Kaathe? Your conviction is commendable."

The cleric shrugged.

"Not too keen on dying, but I prefer the Flame as well. Of course, I have no intention of leaving things as halfassed as Gwyn did. 'I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself,' you know? Before I light myself on fire, I want to light a fire under everyone else. Ambition is the name of the Flame."

"I don't recognize the phrase, but I follow your intent. If you believe spreading the truth of the matter is best, then I will not stop you. But be wary, for those gods that remain will not look kindly on such actions."

"Well, Velka's feathers are already pretty ruffled."

The Serpent snorted, which sounded terrifying given the size of its nose.

"Now," it continued, "do my senses betray me? Have you already retrieved the Lordvessel?"

"Right here," Lex said, patting his bag. "Don't ask me how it works."

"Magnificent! Now, let us take that vessel on a journey. I assume that you are ready. Now, be still!"

"Oh gods!"

The horrifying smell of rotting meat, shattered stone, and ground steel grew worse as the Serpent rose up and opened its mouth wide. It lunged down and scooped the cleric into its mouth. Silently, it slipped back into the darkness below the chapel.

FIRELINK ALTAR

Lex rolled as he was spat out onto the broken stone floor. He was in a decaying ruin, and the roots of massive trees grew up from the darkness below to cover everything. Directly ahead was a short staircase leading to a hollow stump surrounded by ash. Behind the stump were massive stone double doors inscribed with an ancient language.

"This is the Firelink Chamber, for the successor of Lord Gwyn. Now, place the Lordvessel on the altar."

The cleric nodded and approached the stump, reaching into his bag to remove the man-sized stone bowl. He grunted from the weight but placed it carefully in the center of the stump. He stepped back as it lit up, a warm, yellow-white energy floating upward. Abruptly, thunder cracked, and a golden beam shot straight up, pouring over the sides of the bowl as it rose. After a few moments, the energy subsided, and a small flame was all that was left in the bottom of the bowl.

Lex turned around and walked back to the Serpent, which was dangling from the darkened ceiling. The mustache had flopped down disgustingly. Frampt nodded as he approached.

"Very well. I will trust you are already aware of the task that lies before you."

"Yeah, quick question, though. Well, two. Does this look like Izalith or does Izalith look like this?"

"Of the Lords, the Witch of Izalith paid special reverence to the First Flame. She constructed this temple to protect and honor the Flame and rebuilt her home in homage."

"Cool. Now, what about that stuff behind you?"

"What is behind me?"

Lex looked at him expectantly.

"Those flame bowl things that aren't lit and the other Lordvessel above them."

The Serpent craned its neck all the way back instead of simply turning around.

"So there are. Would you believe me if I told you I was unaware of their purpose?"

"Dunno. Maybe? You're not great at inspiring confidence, what with the surprise martyrdom thing."

"Fair enough. If that is all, then we shall return. Stay still for a moment!"

The cleric sighed.

"I wonder if Sen could invent breathmints."

With that, he was swallowed once more.

FIRELINK SHRINE

Frampt spit him out at the entrance to the chapel. He shivered at the sensation.

"Well, with that out of the way," he said, sighing, "I'm gone. I'll be back when I kill Seath, maybe. I might just be lazy and only show up when I have all four."

"As it pleases you, Chosen Undead."

Lex waved as he headed back to the bonfire.

"It's gotten worse!" Wilhelm whined.

"No, that's just me. I got swallowed. My best advice for now is to move out of the wind. Not that there's wind. Maybe play tic-tac-toe with Anastacia until I see if Izalith has mint candies. Or toothpaste. Anyway, don't go near Frampt or downstairs to New Londo. Later, man."

He extended a hand to the fire and warped back to Anor Londo, the flame cleansing the smell from his armor in transit.

ANOR LONDO

He again sprinted up the stairs before any of the second group could ask questions. When he reached the entrance to the Archives, he found that while the barrier had gone, so had the group. Nearly vomiting from the exertion, he ran down one tunnel after the other, finding the fang boars missing as well. At last, he rushed into the atrium, where he found the group mulling about.

THE DUKE'S ARCHIVES

Hanser and Siegmeyer were reading books on the few podiums standing about. Arnalt was at the bonfire, sharpening his pike with a smithbox. Jeremiah and Priscilla were talking quietly off to the side.

"Okay, great! I was kind of worried you'd get to the crazy stuff before I had a chance to warn you."

The group turned and gathered at the center of the room.

"There wast no need to fear," Jeremiah said. "I warned the others that thou almost certainly hadst specific instructions for us before we ventured too deep."

"Yes. My god, yes. The Archives are designed terribly. You can't write for an open world like you do for adventure paths. Heck, you shouldn't write adventure paths like this either, unless it's for a con game. Railroading is so lazy."

The others stared at him blankly, so he continued.

"Right, so, Jeremiah and Hanser, you'll want to put your headgear back on if you still have them somewhere. Everyone else, you'll probably want to make masks from the clothes of whatever you kill in here. For now, let's go ahead and head up."

He climbed the stairs at the center of the room and walked onto the railed platform at the top. Once everyone had gotten on, he pulled the lever in the middle. A rail slid to close the path behind them, and the whole platform began to rise on a track against the wall. At the top, an archway opened before them. In the distance, a pair of small, blue humanoids rushed toward them while a third drew a bow.

"Duck and wait," Lex said calmly, pointing to the small regions of wall on either side of the arch.

When they drew close, the creatures were revealed to be hollows hunched over under the weight of strange crystal growths. The men readied their weapons, but Priscilla hooked her scythe around the corner and lopped their heads off before they were within reach.

"Careful, they hit like a ton of bricks," Lex said quietly. "Pretty resistant to physical damage as well. Jere- uh, Dad, did you get a flame weapon while we were in the Ruins?"

The pyromancer nodded, unslinging a faintly glowing falchion from under his cape.

"Cool. No, wait, hot. Let's slide on a bit further."

He led them out from the arch and quickly to the right wall. Priscilla leapt ahead to kill the crystal hollow directly ahead.

"All right, I'll lure out the next group. Everyone get ready to charge in and save me. Watch out for the Channeler and don't get too close to the crystal golem."

He ran up the stairs, past the crystallized hollow archer and into the massive library beyond. He immediately leaned backward and sprinted back out while soul and physical arrows flew past him. Three sword-bearing crystal hollows ran out after him, and the archer in the doorway drew another arrow. Before any of the others could do anything, Priscilla lunged ahead, crushing the archer underfoot and hacking the swordsmen in twain. She glared at the Channeler.

It bowed its head slightly, then clutched its trident. Soul energy flared about it, and it swiftly faded away, warping to another part of the Archives.

"Well, that was simple," Lex said, sighing. "Next would be-"

Priscilla skipped backward and shattered the golem with the talon on the butt of her scythe.

"All righty, then."

The cleric walked over to the remains of the golem and bent down. After sifting through the shards, he quickly found a bit of craggy stone with a dried vine tied about it.

"Aaaand I'm done here. Prophetic warning time."

They walked away from the archway, where arrows could still hit them and gathered around Lex.

"So obviously, if there's a Channeler around, be careful, because he might power up the crystal dudes. Next, if you find a treasure chest, stand behind it and give it a love tap first, because it might be a mimic and eat you if you try to open it. Most importantly, Seath is completely and utterly immortal. If you encounter him in the Archives – and you almost certainly will – you need to focus on dying quickly so that you don't get cursed by his breath. Obviously, this is counter-intuitive, and the encounter designer is a smug jerk.

Now, at least one of you will probably have to die. I don't know why, but after you do, the secret passage to the second room will be opened for some reason. You will also respawn at some nonsense bonfire in the dungeon instead of the one you should. Seriously, I hope the encounter designer got fired for this crap. Him and the Bed of Chaos guy.

Anyway, it may actually be possible to cheat your way past this. The passage is to the right of the elevator, behind a bookshelf. Try to get it open before you suicide, but it might not be possible. In the case that you aren't imprisoned, you still need to go to the dungeon and free the absent-minded sorcerer at the bottom. Jerem- Dad, remember what I said about the golem in the courtyard."

Jeremiah nodded solemnly.

"Right, so in that case, I'm off to create a stable time loop because Lordran is full of nonsense."

He gave a curt wave and walked back to the elevator, leaving the group confused and without a guide.


	38. And the Gendo goes to

Clearing the room of crystal hollows was easy enough. In fact, the humans did nothing at all. The instant someone noticed another one, her gleaming eyes locked on, and she had slain it before anyone had time to blink. They were still quite out of breath, however, as a result of trying to beat her to the enemies. Aside from Siegmeyer, they were no mere adventurers, so they decided to leave the chests alone rather than learn what a "mimic" was.

At last, they congregated at the elevator platform at the far end of the room. To the right, bookcases lined the wall.

"Perhaps they slide," Hanser said idly. "I have seen such before."

"Thou hast?" Jeremiah asked. "A novel idea. In Izalith, we had a great deal of space but had to be mindful of fire hazards."

Arnalt snickered but stopped when Hanser glared at him.

"Siegmeyer, you seem to be the strongest among us. See if you can move the one in back."

The knight took hold of either side and heaved. The bookcase rattled but did not move.

"It sounds as though it's locked in place. Appropriate enough for a secret passage, I suppose," Hanser murmured.

Siegmeyer grunted and tugged with all his might. Abruptly, the wood snapped from the pressure, and he slammed into the other bookcase, knocking a few volumes to the floor.

"The prophet made no mention of a means of opening it, but I don't believe any of you wishes to die for the sake of opening a door, do you?"

Priscilla had been silent for the most part, but now she spoke up: "Perhaps I could speak with my father. Surely, he would prefereth grant us entry o'er having his Archives turned upside-down in pursuit of the key."

Hanser looked grim.

"I fear he may not be as you remember him, child."

The crossbreed gripped her scythe tightly and stared at her feet.

"I do not much remember him. I saw him once a year or so. Every birthday, Mother and I visited him to record my growth and ensure I was healthy. He would give me some small gift. I only saw him otherwise when I fell ill, for who could heal the bearer of a killing curse but one who could not die?"

Jeremiah reached up to pat her back, but she shook it off.

"I will ask my father that he grant us access… and if he can excuseth his crimes, of which I have heard much, now and in mine exile."

She walked away solemnly and pulled the lever of the elevator. The rails slid shut, separating her from the others as she rose to the next floor. At the top was a rectangular room. Crystal dripped from the walls like ice, and a noise like the winter wind whistled through the passage on the right. Priscilla stooped slightly as she entered.

It was taller than a human but not quite tall enough for a half-dragon monstrosity such as herself. Soon, the passage turned to a staircase, and a knight likewise covered in crystal leapt at her. Barely able to move, she blocked his crystalline sword with her scythe and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly and steadily, a cold fog billowing out of her mouth. The knight struggled to get away as the rest of his body slowly turned to crystal.

She shook her head sadly and swatted the statue aside with the head of her scythe. As she climbed, the passage grew increasingly crystallized, and large protrusions make passing through difficult, as she had to take to her knees or make short hops to go under or over, all the while being careful not to catch her coat on the spikes. At last, she reached a small level chamber. Before her was a doorway blocked by the white fog. She took a deep breath, for her own sake this time, and pushed through.

The room beyond was so filled with crystal that its original shape had been lost. At the opposite side of the room, where the crystal was thickest, rose an emaciated humanoid torso that gleamed white as snow. The head, however, was that of a dragon, eyeless and with five great crooked horns. Beneath the first set was a smaller ring just above brow level. From the back sprouted six iridescent wings like an insect's, but shaped like a bird's.

"_Fllllllesh of my flesh._"

The voice came without warning. The great dragon's maw did not move, but the sexless, choking whisper wriggled in her ear as if the monster were sitting on her shoulder.

"_It has been mmmmmany centuries. I am pllllllleased to see you have made frrrriends. I ttttold your mother that ssssocialization was important for a child's mental growth. Alassssss, her plans for you were quiiiiiite intractable._"

The voice laughed like cicadas buzzing.

"_And when you proooooved too soft-hearted, she cassst you aside. A sssshame. I could have uuuuuused an assistant at the time. Ssssomeone that blasted bishop would not have wwwwwatched so carefully. Well, he was dealllllllt with eventually. Your mother owed me thhhhhhat much._"

The insectile laughter hissed in her ears again, and she shuddered.

"_A ssssshame things have turned out as they have. I knnnnnnew from the beginning, of course, but I do so miss those simmmmmmmpler times. Tell me, my blooooood: has Anor Londo yet fallen?_"

Priscilla swallowed.

"It yet doth stand, Father."

"I_see. Thhhhhhen 'twas those humans that freed you. Amusing, amusing. But I douuuuubt you came here to entertain my curiosity. You are hhhhhhere for the Prophecy, are you not?_"

"We are here because of it but not to fulfill it, Father. The Sealer Hanser seeketh knowledge of the true Dark. The Chosen Undead did lead us here, but he departed on another errand."

"_Ah. The onnnnnne with the armor from the dissstant East. I see. A shame, a shame. I had sooooo looked forward to our fatal combatttt._

_The Lord of Meeeen, though whether he succeeds Gwyn or his own precursor is yet to be seen. I wisssshed to test his might to determine the limits of such a vvvvvessel._"

The voice's sigh was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Father," Priscilla said, having gathered her courage.

"_Yes, chillllld._"

"My dear companions calleth the 'the mad Duke,' and Sir Ornstein long spoke of thy crimes when he had occasion to visit my prison. Why dost thou steal away maidens? Why didst thou craft serpents that walk as men?"

"_Flesh of my flesh, yet innocent of innocents, hhhhave you not seen your own reflection? Madness. Is for. The weak. I nnnnnever fell into madness – only – I lessened my own restraint as the gods wwwwwithered._

_Some see a glllllimpse of the true Flame and are called 'mad' by the frail. I did not betray my brethren for peeeettiness. I did it for Flame. The gods were closest to it after the Lords, yet they restrained themsssselves as did Gwyn. I should have alllligned myself with the Witch._

_I thought her overeager and pledged myself to the strongest, to the most brrrrrrrilliant, but Gwyn was a coward. I may as well have pledged to the Dark. You ssssee, child of mine, I push the boundaries of what we know of Flaaaame. For that, I need fuel – young maidens yet full of humanity. The riiiiper, the better._

_Alas, I was, ah, forbiddennnnnnn from Anor Londo for taking certain maidens I should not have. A shame they turned to pisaca like the rest. The mmmanserpents were a convenient accident as a result of my rrrrrresearch into my own kind. Their existence holds no meaning._"

"Father, how canst thou be so uncaring?"

"_Blood of my blood, apppppppreciate your human friends while you have them. They are fragile in body and in sppppirit. When their bodies are cold and their ssssouls dispersed and consumed by others, ask me again, if you dare. In the time before, nnnnnnnothing had value. It is a gift of Flame._

_Know this, youngling: those rarrrrrrre things of true worth are truly immortal. Time tuuuurns upon itself. This play of gods and kings will return, as will I. I have assuuuuured it._"

"I see," Priscilla said sadly. "Thou art not repentant in the slightest."

"_No. I am not._"

"Then the burden of thy crimes doth fall upon myself."

The crossbreed swept forward, bouncing over the uneven ground as she disappeared from sight. A crystal-spewing wound ran up the ancient dragon's chest until it curved sharply at his neck. Priscilla became visible again with her foot at the base of her father's neck. She stomped down as she drew her scythe up and lopped his head off. The neck rained crystal shards on the room as the body collapsed, and the attacker leapt aside.

"_Oh, you have spiiiiirit, flesh of my flesh and heart of Flame! And your mother's bllllloodthirst, no less! A finer weapon I could not have wrought her, and yet she abbbbbbandoned you like the impetuous fool she is!_"

The body fumbled around blindly until it found its head, mashing the clotting crystals against one another until they ground to a paste of sorts, and the wound sealed.

"_Yet. You cannot kill me. It cccccannot be done. Your Llllllifehunt is a perversion of Flame. My immortality is of an ollllllder nature._

_But I appreciate the effort. I have nnnnnnever been prouder, my daughter._"

"I no longer wish to be such!"

The cicada-laughter returned.

"_Such spirit, such spiiiiiiirit! Come, it is not your birthday, but I owe you a great many gifts paaaaast, do I not?_"

The monster tore its chest open without hesitation. In its claws, it held a blindingly-brilliant flame. Priscilla felt an instinctive aversion to it as her blood of dragons and the occult retreated twofold.

"_Take it, chhhhild, and sate my curiosity. Can a blasphemy become a deity?_"

Priscilla approached her father slowly and hesitantly took the soul. It didn't burn as she had feared, but rather held a gentle warmth. She walked away.

"_That iiiiiis disappointing. A shame, a shame. Do as you please with it. I no longer have neeeeeeed of it. But do tell the Chosen Undead to ssssstop by when he gets the chance._"

Priscilla crossed back through the fog with the horrible shrieking laughter ringing in her ears. She descended the narrow passage exhaustedly and slumped against the rail after starting the elevator. When it stopped, she rested a moment longer while she gathered the energy to continue. At last, she rose and walked to the hidden passage. She had been so distracted by everything else, she had forgotten to ask her father to open it.

It seemed the others had managed it one way or another. She stooped and walked through the human-sized passage to the next chamber. More crystallized hollows came for her, but she swung her scythe dully, deflecting arrows and hewing through bodies absentmindedly. Below, she saw the others milling about, so she stopped and held her face with both hands for a few moments. She took a deep breath and smiled gently before descending to join them.

There was a bonfire on the balcony beyond, which likely accounted for the presence of enemies above. Now that she was closer, she noticed that Hanser was missing, though his companion Arnalt was working on his pike at the bonfire as before. In fact, it seemed as though there were two Siegmeyers instead. The original was making elaborate gestures while the other was hiding in his helmet. Jeremiah caught sight of the crossbreed approaching and waved.

Priscilla walked toward the group as calmly as ever and sat down patiently. Siegmeyer quickly wrapped up his tall tale and threw out his arms invitingly.

"Oho! And here is our last member, the Lady Priscilla, a wondrously powerful demigoddess who joined us in Anor Londo! Ah! But don't try to shake her hand; she has a condition which makes it dangerous for humans to do so! And Priscilla, this is my darling daughter, Sieglinde! Come now, don't be shy, Lin!"

The other Onion Knight's groans echoed in her bulbous helmet. She sighed and removed it, revealing herself to be a young woman in her mid-twenties and far slimmer than the armor let on. Much of her chestnut-colored hair was tied back, but she had to brush away a few stray locks.

"Thank you for putting up with my father," she said exhaustedly, bowing her head slightly.

When she did that, the hair fell down again.

"Oh, Lin, you're a mess. Let me get that for you."

Siegmeyer started to brush the hair back, but his daughter swatted his hand away.

"Father, I am a grown woman. I can do it myself. And I wonder where I could get it from? You haven't shaved in days."

"Oh my," the old knight said, rubbing his stubble. "It slipped my mind completely."

Sieglinde sighed, and Siegmeyer laughed. Priscilla simply clutched the burning soul she held in her sleeve. Jeremiah put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Where is Hanser?" she said quietly.

Finally, Arnalt spoke: "e's in one of th' secret rooms. Seemed safe enough. We'll 'ead down t' th' dungeon without 'im."

"I see. Please, allowest me finish this task."

She swallowed.

"This is a wondrous reunion, and I have need to consider some things mine own father said to me. As I can travel unseen, I will be in no great danger."

Siegmeyer's brow furrowed in concern, but Jeremiah made a quick gesture, and he relaxed.

"Of course, of course!" the old knight rumbled. "Take all the time you need!"

"Thank thee," Priscilla said, curtsying as she vanished from sight.

There was a faint tinkling as a single crystal tear struck the marble.


	39. Let the galaxy burn

DARKROOT BASIN

"Heeeeeere Manusmanusmanusmanusmanusmanus!"

Lex walked along the lowest part of Darkroot Basin, where Dusk had been imprisoned and died. He neared the end of the tunnel and approached a whirling pool of purple energy, throbbing like a heartbeat.

"I don't really want to touch that," he said, sighing.

The cleric extended one hand slowly, leaning away from it as he did. Abruptly, a massive, bloated hand surged out of the pool. It was studded with crooked, decaying teeth, and a churning, fanged maw hissed in the center of the palm.

"Oh gods, I'm going to be ill."

It grabbed him and pulled him into the vortex while his own hand went to his mouth to ward against vomiting.

SANCTUARY GARDEN

The hand pulled him through an immeasurable darkness but reflexively let go when he sprayed bits of ramen and orange soda over the back of it. Lex hit the ground hard, finding himself in a shallow cavern, the roots of a massive tree crawling down from a hole in the roof above.

"Well, that doesn't bode well," he groaned as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He shook his head and extended one hand to the fire. There, he paused.

"Is there any particular reason why only some bonfires are warpable? Like, there was the original list, then they patched it to include more. Is there any reason why I can't just warp wherever I want? Like, you'd think that Quelaav's fire would be blocked or something."

He shrugged and focused on the Basin bonfire. The flame before him sputtered and smoked, and the ground cracked. Smoke enveloped him as night and day blurred, and seasons flew by. At last, he found himself in the dark hole in the wall where he'd left Oscar and Solaire.

DARKROOT BASIN

"How did it go?" Oscar yawned, stretching.

"I need to have Sen invent cars. And then figure out how to put a bonfire in one. In any case, you're going to see some serious shit."

"Sure."

"Well, grab on," Lex sighed, extending his hand.

Solaire and Oscar linked hands, and Lex abruptly remembered he hadn't bothered to check whether the bonfire had cleaned the vomit off. He whistled and quickly flung them into the past.

SANCTUARY GARDEN

"So this is the past," Oscar said flatly. "At least it has better lighting."

"Don't be like that, Oscar!" Solaire teased. "Imagine, seeing Lordran while it was still full of life!"

"Well, actually…" Lex mumbled.

"What is it?"

"Yeah, pretty much everything that moves is going to try to kill us from this point on. That said, welcome to Oolacile, guys. Though we were technically already in Oolacile."

"Well, that's a shame," Solaire sighed, still having trouble keeping his spirits up after Anor Londo.

"Right, well, no need to dwell on it. We've got a manticore to kill, and then we'll be able to meet the only survivor still in town. Princess Dusk made it too, but she's recently been kidnapped."

Solaire nodded, perking up a bit.

"If that is the case, then we have no time to lose!"

"So, general strategy here is to stick to its wings. Directly in front or behind is dangerous. Best window for attacks is following a dustup or a four-hit combo. Try to dodge instead of blocking if possible. The water will slow you down and conduct its electric attacks, so let's try to keep it on the shore."

"Understood."

"Traveling with a prophet is quite convenient, isn't it?"

Solaire chuckled a little, and they headed up the slope. Lex pushed through the fog gate. Beyond was a circular depression. There was a narrow and steep shore leading to a shallow pond filled with fallen trees and dead leaves. In the middle was a massive, horned white lion with four wings and a scorpion tail.

It roared with such force as to send water spraying before it pounced forward, stomping through the pond without slowing. Lex raised his talisman and began chanting as Oscar and Solaire entered on either side of him.

"Let me hear you scream!" the cleric roared back at the beast, his armor unleashing a blastwave that caused it to stumble backward as it reached them.

The knights ran around either side of it and hacked away while Lex grabbed one of the manticore's horns and swung himself onto its back. As it shook off the shock, it began to buck and try to throw him off. It swung its head low at Solaire, who blocked the attack with his shield. The beast roared and ran off into the pond, shaking violently to try and unseat its passenger. The cleric stayed on easily, arms hanging over either of the manticore's giant curling horns.

"Nice try! I've won _so many _prizes from mechanical bulls!"

It growled and stuck him in the back with its tail.

"Not fair, you jerk! Ugh! One of you guys try to cut that off!"

He moaned as the poison set in, but the wound itself wasn't bad, thanks to the strength of his armor. As the knights waded toward it, the manticore shattered the water with its wings and took to the air. It spat orbs of electricity as it flew. Solaire raised his shield and simply endured the shock as the water was electrified, but Oscar rolled clear of the arcing bolts. Lex gripped his talisman tightly.

"Well, here goes."

_Ich möchte stärker werden_

_weil unsere Welt sehr grausam ist_

_Es ist ratsam, welke blumen zu entfernen_

He shortened his grip on the horns so he could press the worn cloth to his heart. The ratty old canvas and twine of a common cleric had been set aside. Instead, he held a gold-hemmed black talisman made from the remains of Quelaag's ruined robes and tied with a lock of her hair. It burned hot as Lex tried to force a miracle derived from pyromancy.

_Ja, ich bin viel stärker, als ich je gedacht hab_

_Fliege höher_

_Laufe viel schneller_

_Vergiss die wahrheit nicht_

_Ja, ich bin viel stärker, als ich je gedacht hab_

_Ich entferne welke blumen_

_Wieso siehst du so traurig aus_

Prismatic light shone out of his body, and his armor pounded like drums. The lion's face on his left shoulder twitched, then came to life, roaring as loudly as the real thing below. The brass and steel twitched and pulsed as they synchronized with the cleric's heartbeat.

_Was willst du von mir_

_Ich mag wollen oder nicht, ich muss den feind verfolgen_

_Ich bin nicht frei von dieser welt_

_Was willst du von mir_

_Ich mag wollen oder nicht, ich muss den feind verfolgen_

_Ich bin nicht frei von dieser welt_

Echoes of the Witch-Lord's Life Soul flowed out of the fragment of Quelana's soul in him, and his armor answered the call. It constricted about him, digging into his flesh and feeding off of his vitality. It warped and twisted into a gnarled mass of spikes and teeth as did all things touched by Chaos.

_Egal wie hart du auch bist_

_Fliege höher_

_Laufe viel schneller!_

_Du bist sehr stark_

_Du bindest einen Blumenkranz_

_Wieso siehst du so traurig aus_

Lex screamed as he jerked the manticore's head forward with the strength of ten men – or at least Siegmeyer. The beast yelped and lost control, splashing down into the pond and throwing the cleric away. Oscar had no idea what just happened, but he took a quick swig of Estus just in case while Solaire moved in front to keep the beast from their downed ally. The manticore rose, furious, and charged the Warrior of Sunlight. Solaire blocked the hit but was knocked back into the water.

As the monster lunged, Oscar rushed its flank, his demon-slaying sword hacking deep into its leg. It roared in agony and turned around with a quick flap of its wings. Solaire hopped up to grapple its tail, yanking it away from the body while Lex drew his sword. The weapon contorted like his armor, and Chaos thorns grew up from its handle as he gripped it with both hands. With a lightning-quick motion, he brought it down and severed the tail in one blow.

As it roared in pain, Solaire dug his much more ordinary sword into the wound Oscar had made. There was a shredding sound, and the manticore collapsed on its ruined leg. Lex hacked away at the other rear leg, and Oscar exchanged one sword for another. The elite knight held Prince Ricard's rapier in the light and then lunged forward. Three strikes, then four more, then a final thrust with all his strength.

The manticore's face was torn to shreds as the flashing blade probed for weakness. When the final strike came, it struck right between the eyes, piercing through the skull with the sudden impact. Oscar withdrew the blade and flicked the gray matter off as the beast erupted into souls.

"Woo!" Lex shouted as the light streaming from him faded and his armor stopped moving.

He looked down at himself. The equipment wasn't changing back.

"Well, crap. I look like a… well, a Chaos Marine. But with peripheral vision."

"A what?" Oscar asked, wading toward the other two.

"A type of warrior pledged to the pantheon of which Slaanesh is a part. As you can see, they tend to look generically evil. But normally, they have giant pauldrons they can't see over. Not related to Izalith's Chaos, except for a love of mutating things to have spikes. And demons. So I guess they are kind of related, maybe."

He shrugged and started stuffing the manticore's severed tail into his bag. Left of the entrance was another hill rising out of the pond, this one leading to a demigod-sized archway. The two knights went on ahead, with the cleric sprinting to catch up when he was done. The tunnel beyond was mossy stone, and roots broke through the ceiling in places. At the end was a staircase leading out into a round courtyard.

OOLACILE SANCTUARY

In a pit directly ahead was a bonfire. As they walked toward it, they passed rows of humanoid stone markers in a semicircle around it. They all had inscriptions on their front, but they had worn with time, and many were overgrown with moss or broken. The knights approached the bonfire, but Lex pointed past it and a little to the left. Growing out of the wall encircling most of the Sanctuary was a massive toadstool with bulging white eyes.

The knights looked at one another and approached cautiously, but Lex walked past them without pause. Strangely, the fungus spoke, despite having no obvious means of doing so, sounding much like a caring grandmother.

"Well, look at this. From what faraway age have you come? Your scents are very human, indeed… but not intolerable…"

She focused on Lex.

"Ah, one of Princess Dusk's saviors. Thine aura is _precisely_ as she described. I thank thee deeply for rescuing Her Highness. But Princess Dusk is here no longer… snatched away by that horrifying primeval human."

Her voice grew a little hoarse.

"And so I must ask… Couldst thou once more play the savior?"

"The funny thing is that the nature of time travel means I already have."

The mushroom chuckled faintly.

"I suppose it doth mean so. Thank you. I am Elizabeth, guardian of this Sanctuary. Something of a godmother to Princess Dusk. I will assist thee to my utmost, for I am one with the sorceries of Oolacile."

"Thanks! We've kind of misplaced our sorcerer, but if we ever find her again, we'll send her your way."

Lex gave two thumbs up and turned to face the others.

"You seem to be doing better," Oscar said sarcastically. "I'll have to ask you how it works when we have some free time."

"How what works?"

"Your… time alone."

The cleric snorted and then looked very serious.

"I have no idea either. I have to get her the humanity first."

"What are you two talking about?" Solaire asked jollily. "Let me in on the big secret."

"That's right, Captain!" Oscar said, taking his helmet off. "You weren't with us at Sen's Fortress."

Solaire removed his helmet as well, and the trio moved to sit down at the bonfire.

"Hold on a minute, Oscar," Lex said raising a warning finger. "Let me try something first."

He raised his hand to his ear and flipped out his thumb and pinky as usual.

"Heeeey Quelaag."

"_You had best be in the midst of collecting humanity, my betrothed._"

"Um. Kind of working on it. It'll be a while to get down there, and there's a thing I have to do first."

"Wait!" Oscar interrupted. "How are you speaking with your Quelaag instead of the Quelaag of this time?"

Lex looked up, eyes wide. He glanced about awkwardly.

"Uh, Quelaag? Oscar asked a really good question. How _am_ I talking to you and not past-you?"

"_These rings are bound to one another through the Flame. Their power is born of will. You will to speak with me, and so you do._"

"Should I say hello to old you or would that cause a paradox?"

"_Don't do anything foolish!_"

"You know, I wonder if I can use this for telepathic sexti-"

He abruptly remembered that he was not alone.

"-I mean, uh, visual forms of communication."

"_That is possible. It was used by our scouts to ensure their commanders received accurate information._"

"Neat. So if you know all these other things, do you know what's up with bonfire warping? Like, I could warp when I physically had the Lordvessel, and so could other people, but now I don't physically have the Lordvessel, and I'm warping anyway."

"_I do not know what this 'Lordvessel' is, but it is possible that it has changed the bonfires in some way. I am not fully aware of their abilities, and such arts were more to Quelana's taste. I was desperate when I joined Quelaav to that fire. I doubt I could do so again. Yet…_"

Abruptly, a frail voice cut in.

"_Brother Prophet, is that you?_" Quelaav said suddenly.

"Uh, yes."

The bonfire began to gurgle and spit, and its color grew deep red. The trio quickly jumped back, and Lex let go of his ear to grab his talisman. The knights readied their shields while the cleric tensed, ready to dodge. The ground about the fire cracked, and the bowl filled with lava. A black-nailed hand burst out of the lava and clawed at the stone steps.

A clenched fist holding a sword followed, and with a great deal of effort, Quelaag dragged herself out from under the bonfire. She shook the last bits of molten stone out of her hair and grinned wickedly.

"So they do operate on the same principle…"

"A demon! In the Sanctuary!" Elizabeth cried, only able to look on in horror.

"Nah, it's fine. It's just my fiancee. Solaire, Elizabeth, meet Quelaag. Quelaag, Solaire and Elizabeth."

Solaire took a sweeping bow.

"I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight. Your husband-to-be has been a stalwart companion on this pilgrimage. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, yes," Quelaag said blankly, stunned by his utter lack of hesitation. "I am Quelaag, second princess and marshal of Izalith."

The mushroom woman quivered, but she kept her voice firm.

"I am Elizabeth, of Oolacile. It is likewise a pleasure, Your Grace."

Quelaag nodded and looked about the Sanctuary. Satisfied, she glanced down at Lex.

"Well, this expedition was entertaining, but I must be getting back. I will see you not before you have collected the promised dowry."

"Wait! Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait. Wait," Lex said all at once. "Do you have any obvious limitations on your humanity-draining ability?"

She quirked an eyebrow.

"I've not had much opportunity to use it on creatures other than humans. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you could use it on a demigod that's been corrupted by the Abyss?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"As if I would bother."

"Aww," the cleric sighed. "Artorias seemed like a pretty cool dude."

She turned back and grabbed him by the chin, turning his head up to meet her gaze.

"Did you say _Artorias_?"

She laughed. She didn't restrain herself as she had on other occasions but threw her head back and gave a high, mocking laugh.

"Oh, I would _relish_ the chance to tell him he lost our wager!"

Oscar's eyes were wide with childlike wonder.

"You knew Artorias the Abysswalker? We're going to meet Artorias the Abysswalker?"

"Knew him? Ha! We've _bickered_ since the time of dragons! I can't wait to see the look on his face now that his so-vaunted defense is broken!"

"Well, the look on his face is kind of a spooky shroud of darkness right now, what with the whole corruption thing."

"My dear betrothed, what a lovely present you've given me. What, precisely, do you wish me to do? I take it that meathead won't remain idle while I suck the Dark from his soul."

"Oscar, Solaire, get ready for the most difficult nonlethal fight of your lives!"

Oscar narrowed his eyes and grumbled.

"After you said the Knight of Thorns would be easy, I guess I should expect several deaths."

"Hey, I was right about Jeremiah."

"You know what they say about broken clocks."

Lex sighed, and Solaire pat him on the back.

"It will be fine, Oscar! We've all grown since our time in the sewers! Just remember to keep your defense up, and you can handle anything that comes your way!"

Quelaag snorted.

"That was actually the matter of our wager. He always insisted on an adamant defense. My position was that if you actually _kill_ your foe, there was no need. We were always looking for ways to prove our respective points. I would say that be overwhelmed like so gives me a definitive win."

"That's hardly fair," Solaire huffed. "Sacrifice is sometimes necessary. Who's to say what he might have protected with the time he gained?"

The witch smiled sarcastically.

"Oh, this again? We'll have to ask the man himself, I suppose. Dearest, if you would hurry up…"

Lex rose and pursed his lips, shrugging so hard that his pauldrons rose over his head. He led the group under an arch and into a shallow canyon lined by thin white trees. At the end of the crevasse was a much more impressive canyon, through which a wide river flowed a great distance below. The bridge spanning the void would have been exceedingly narrow for a demigod (or whatever Quelaag had been), but with her spider body, fitting was impossible. Instead, she followed behind the group, sinking her legs into the outer sides of it and leaving deep pits in the stone.

ROYAL WOOD

The bridge led to a bluff, and there were paths leading in either direction. Lex stopped briefly to scratch his chin before deciding to head right. A pair of animate scarecrows carrying a number of gardening tools rushed toward him with pitchforks. As they drew near, he smashed them into the hillside with his sword, splitting their thin wooden bodies. He stopped again.

"Right, so we're going to be lazy and go over the cliffside because there's no reason to even go through the rest of the area. Really, I usually just run through it, which is a waste of time. So anyway, we're going to run blindly ahead until we reach the cliff, at which point, you'll need to give us a way down, Quelaag. Sound good?"

"What is it with you Undead and high places?" the witch sighed. "Very well."

The others nodded, so Lex climbed the hill and sprinted through the young forest. Midway through, another wooden gardener began to approach him, as did a stone golem wielding a massive slab of stone crudely fashioned into an axe. Oscar and Solaire quickly split away and moved on either side of them, causing the constructs to turn one way and the other indecisively. Quelaag, however, was having difficulty passing through the dense trees and was soon left behind. She snarled, and the spider opened its mouth, vomiting lava across the golems before their could reach her.

The trees in front of her likewise caught fire, and she cleared herself a path through the Wood by force, knocking over burning timber and hacking away offending branches with her sword. She left a trail of destruction in her wake, and soon all the automata in the Wood were rushing toward her to prevent the whole plateau from catching fire. Fortunately for history, she left them to their work and continued toward her destination. Lex gave her a look of utter disbelief, unable to find words.

"I am innocent," she said sarcastically, putting both hands to her heart. "'twas they who attacked me. My hands are as clean as the forest floor will soon be."

The cleric just sighed and let her begin spinning a rope ladder.


	40. Shot through the heart

The trio hopped down onto another narrow stone bridge. The chasm below was dry, and behind them, in the shadow of the cliff, stood a man in a tallcoat and tall hat with a terrible, sneering mask.

"Hm… Oh, let me guess…" he condescended.

He was abruptly cut off as Quelaag crashed down on the bridge.

"What the devil?!"

"As you can see," Lex said smugly, "invading us is not a good idea, Chester. Later!"

They crossed the bridge and approached a coliseum that had been visible from the cliffside. Beyond a truly massive archway was a fog gate.

"Right, so, no real strategy here because the fight is too fast-paced for me to remember anything solid. If he starts screaming, everyone beat the crap out of him, because he's powering up. It can be stopped if you break his concentration, and it's a pain to deal with him if you fail. General idea is that we're just going to beat the crap out of him until we can disarm him or something."

He blinked.

"Wait. Quelaag, before we go inside, climb up to that tower on the right side of the arena and tell Gough to get off his fat ass."

She snorted suppressing a laugh.

"If you insist, prophet."

The witch turned about and skittered up the outer wall.

"What happened to him, Lex?" Oscar asked quietly. "I thought he was protected from the Abyss."

"I honestly don't know. My timeline kind of turns into a scribble when Artorias is involved. In any case, his magic ring only protects against the Abyss itself. He's still just one man, with one life – unlike the rest of us immortal jerks."

Oscar nodded sadly. Solaire was whispering a prayer into his talisman. Lex drew up his own, if only to prepare for the fight. After a while, Quelaag's voice tingled at the back of his mind.

"_Lex, the giant is aware of the situation. I think he's pouting, so I left him alone. I'll wait for you to flush out our prey before entering myself. I don't know how the Dark has damaged him, but the element of surprise is a vital weapon._"

"Sounds good. I was thinking in two dimensions, but I guess you don't have that limitation."

"_I will see you momentarily._"

Lex nodded to the others and waved his talisman as he recited the hymn to awaken his armor. As before, it roared and dug into his flesh, draining his life in exchange for granting him inhuman strength. He grimaced before speaking.

"It's go time. Quelaag's going to drop in from the top of the arena. If we're lucky, Hawkeye Gough will provide support as well, but it might be too difficult for him to shoot into melee without hitting us as well. We're a lot smaller than dragons, after all."

With that, he pushed through the fog. In the center of the coliseum was one of Oolacile's mutated townsfolk, arms longer than its body and carried at right angles, and a round head with countless glowing red eyes. Lex held his talisman to his mouth and gripped his sword tighter. The creature looked up and staggered backward. With only that warning, a figure suddenly dropped down from above.

A demigod knight in midnight blue, soaked in a strange inky substance, crushed the deformed man beneath his bulk, a massive tarnished sword splitting its skull in half. Even in that condition, it struggled to escape. The knight tiredly raised his sword slightly and slammed it down again, gore splattering across the front of his cloak. He turned his head slowly and unevenly, as if it were tremendously heavy, but his left arm dragged limply along. He stared at the cleric without a sound and did not acknowledge the two human knights as they entered next.

Darkness began to swirl about him as he stood there. He leaned toward them slightly, imploringly raising his head as an ill wind roared, and space began to distort about him. At last, his strength failed, and only his sword supported his limp body. He roared in pain as the darkness poured out of him like smoke. He howled and tried to lunge at them, but his own arm leashed him to his sword.

His body jerked downward and spun about as he ripped his sword free of the body and tossed it into the air. He crouched down, catching the corpse atop his sword as he hung it over his shoulder. He slashed at the empty air, hurling the bloodied body at the trio. They scattered, and it tumbled to the stone floor in a pile of limbs as the knight howled again. He crouched on all fours and exploded into the air.

As he soared, his body twisted, and he reversed his grip on the sword, hammering the blade through the stone with the full weight of his body just as Lex slipped away. The cleric lashed out with his own greatsword, hitting the demigod twice while he pried the steel free of the floor. Oscar and Solaire closed in, but Lex waved them back as Artorias seamlessly flipped the grip and swung in a half circle. The cleric rolled backward just under the blade and fell in line with the others. Now facing the correct direction, the demigod stomped forward and took a pair of wild swings while the humans retreated.

With them out of his reach, he did a standing frontflip, stomping into their midst and separating Oscar from the others. Without missing a beat, he spun on one foot and hacked upward. Oscar twisted his body and grabbed the back of his own blade as he caught the blow on his Black Knight sword. He went skidding backward as Artorias followed up with an overhead swing. This time, the blow came from the front, so he raised his shield.

As with the Taurus Demon now so long ago, Oscar hammered the impossible blow aside and jabbed his own blade into his opponent's side. Artorias quickly jerked himself free of the perfectly sharp weapon and rolled some distance away. He stumbled drunkenly and clutched his good hand to his face, howling as still more darkness rushed out of him.

"Rush him!" Lex screamed.

The three men ran in, swords clutched in both hands, and tore into the beaten knight. Oscar cut gouges through his sword arm, Solaire thought to limit his mobility by jamming his sword through the demigod's calf, and Lex simply thundered away at his back. At last, he staggered and rolled away again. There was little room to maneuver as the humans closed in, and soon his back was to the wall.

"_Move._"

Lex glanced over his shoulder.

"Either side, now!"

The knights tumbled aside while he hit the deck. Quelaag tore in from above, swinging on a thread and powered forward by jets of flame. Rather than a lethal stab, she slammed him with the enormous weight of her spider body, shattering the stone wall. She stomped at his feet and melted the floor so that he sank into it. With his legs disabled, she grabbed his shoulder and wrist and pinned his arm, slamming him into the wall a second time.

Artorias shrieked in rage, and his broken body lurched against the restraint. His armor clattered, and Quelaag's grip slipped. There was a noticeable pop as the demigod rolled his dislocated shoulder back into place. He surged forward, smashing his helmet against her exposed forehead and whipped his sword about. The Chaos Witch leapt back quickly as Artorias shattered the slagged stone around his feet with raw strength.

"Which of us is the monster, again?" she chuckled.

The knight charged her, sliding on a trail of ink instead of running. She retreated again, her spider spraying lava to cover her escape. Artorias set his foot down and flipped into the air. Quelaag drew her own sword in a flash and caught the much larger blade in its teeth, hurling the demigod aside.

"Catch me if you can, meathead!"

The spider-woman pulled an imperceptibly-thin thread, and a rope-sized strand dropped from above. She ran to the wall and grabbed hold, leading Artorias in a chase around the arena as she steadily rose higher. At last, he lunged up the wall, but she leapt off and grabbed him by the throat, swinging back across and throwing his body at the humans' feet. Solaire had built up a massive wreath of lightning composed of countless individual spears, and he cast it downward into the Dark-addled body as rain. The corrupted demigod contorted and howled as the divine energy burned his body and the Lex drove collected weapons and throwing daggers through his flesh.

"Oscar! Bust a move!"

The elite knight grumbled but raised the Channeler's trident high and shuffled in a circle. A wave of blue energy rushed out of the staff and filled the group as Solaire twisted Artorias' legs into a lock and Lex ineffectually grappled with his twitching sword arm.

"His helmet!" Quelaag hissed as she paced around her foe.

Oscar tugged at the ragged, bloodied silk and mangled steel until it finally tore free. The legendary Abysswalker was… different from expected. Ornstein was every bit the worn veteran he ought have been. Artorias, by contrast, seemed quite young, with boyish good looks and flawless pale skin, save black tendrils of corruption creeping up from beneath his left eye. He had short silver hair that looked… strangely familiar.

His blank white eyes bulged as he howled again, and the spot on his face spread like a bruise. His whole body convulsed as the Dark stirred up around him. Quelaag quickly shoved Oscar aside and slid to the ground, lifting the demigod into her lap. She bit into his neck carelessly, spraying blackened blood as she did so. The a vortex of darkness whirled around the knight as she drained as much of it out of him as she could. Though the benefits of her last feast had hardly faded, the Dark stoked her internal furnace and caused her to burn brighter and hotter.

Her hair gleamed, and flame licked out from the tips. Her eyes burned like twin suns, and her sword melted the floor even while hanging at her side. Still further, her power grew out of control and overflowed, forming a translucent gown of flame that fluttered over the back of the spider's body. Yet even this was not enough, as the pitch-blackness about Artorias exploded in a flash and sent her hurtling backward. Less a howl and more a shriek now, Artorias screamed as his broken body lurched forward with twice the strength it had before.

"Get out of there! It'll wear off in a minute!" Lex shouted.

"I win this round, Artorias," she gloated, ignoring him.

She swept forward with her sword and repelled the demigod with the blastwave alone. The spider lunged through the air as the demigod skidded to his feet and rolled under the attack. As Quelaag slashed again, Artorias leapt backward and stuck his sword into the wall. Overconfident, the witch charged at him, but he jumped over her and toward the humans. The unexpected attack swept through them and sent them skidding along the broken floor.

Solaire was the least harmed, having followed his own advice and kept his shield up. Still, there was a massive, inky gash across the face of the painted sun. Oscar glanced down unenthusiastically at the tear in his gut and readied to dodge as necessary. Lex's first modified and now mutated armor was not nearly as effective as it had originally been, so he lay face-down in a pool of his own blood. Fortunately, he wasn't panicking yet.

Quelaag roared and hurtled through the air on a blazing thread. She threw a net at the demigod, but he simply rolled away. As she rushed in again, Artorias twisted his body and sprayed liquid darkness from his shattered arm, blinding her. She shrieked with rage, and the floor all around her liquified. Still, this had been enough of a distraction for Oscar to chug half his flask.

A lightning spear struck Artorias' back, staggering him as the rush of power faded. Oscar lunged to take his feet out from under him, but he still had enough energy to roll away. As he took his feet, the sound of a muffled explosion followed, and the demigod reeled backward from the sonic boom. On his last legs, Artorias growled as he turned from one enemy to the other, trying to pick out the weakest. Then, abruptly, he was against the wall with an arrow the size of a sapling sticking through his abdomen.

"Damned tribal gloryhounds!" Quelaag spat.

"Uh?" Lex groaned, exhausted.

"Yes, I know," she grumbled.

She scurried over to the knight before he could recover and dug into his neck again. Her flames roared and grew wilder but thankfully didn't grow anymore as she drained the last of the Dark from his broken body. A sharp blue color returned to his right eye as the haze faded, but the left seemed completely ruined. The glimpse was short-lived, as they fluttered shut when he collapsed from exhaustion. The witch ripped his body off of the greatarrow and laid it on the floor as gently as she could while still quivering from her own power.

"He will certainly need a healer."

She glanced at Lex. He was having trouble responding, as a pair of blades were sticking out of his lungs.

"I thought I heard an insect buzzing about," she growled.

There was someone behind Lex, but whenever Oscar or Solaire tried to approach, he was moved between them, still trying to pull himself off the blades wedged in his needlessly spiky armor.

"That one is mine," Quelaag hummed. "I'm the only one who may _run him through_."

Lex's eyes opened wide. He hoped that didn't mean what he thought it did.

"Don't misunderstand," she continued, smiling wide. "I have full confidence that he'll return. It's just the principle of it, you know? It would be terribly poor form to kill him to get to you."

Lex threw his arms wide and asked himself what else he should have expected.

"How about a trade? Your man for mine?"

At last, a rather subdued woman's voice sounded from behind Lex: "Artorias is a _dear friend_!"

"Yes, a dear friend that your other dear friend just shot, while the fourth member of your merry band didn't even bother to leave home. Do you want him or not? At this rate, he'll bleed out while you're repressing that infantile crush you've had since the beginning of time."

Lex wobbled toward Quelaag, then paced past her to Artorias. At last, there was a spurt of blood and sparks, and he fell over to reveal a woman of average human height in elaborate blue robes decorated with bleached bone. Her head was hooded, and a porcelain mask concealed her face, but a short blond braid trailed out the back. In either hand was were long, wavy knives – one gold and full, the other silver and spined like fish bones. Oscar, who had kept the flask to his lips, finally drank.

"My dear Artorias…" the woman whispered as she began to remove the few knives that hadn't fallen out during the battle and tried desperately to dress his wounds.

Lex bobbed his head back and forth, then turned to Quelaag, holding his arms up strangely.

"I'm tired and full of puncture wounds. Carry me."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Say that again."

"What's even the point of having a body that big if I can't ride you into battle?"

She snorted as she suppressed a laugh again.

"What are you after?"

"I don't have any healing spells prepared, and it'd be kind of crap if we put all that effort into saving him, and then he died anyway. There's a bonfire over there, so I could swap spells, and honestly, we haven't really done a whole lot together, so this is kind of a half-assed attempt."

Abruptly, he switched to using the ring.

"_Do you want to lose out to those two? We can be the best power couple! They'll sing ballads about us, except the only people dying in them will be our enemies! Power ballads!_"

"_I have no idea what you're talking about, but between the enthusiasm and the opportunity to beat Artorias at something else, I'm all for it. Come, let's be disgustingly romantic._"

Quelaag scooped Lex up, and they leaned against one another as she carried him toward the bonfire. From a distance, it did certainly look romantic, but they were both chuckling wickedly under their breath. Off to the side, Solaire was praising the sun. Oscar shook his head and sighed.

"Well, thank the gods _I'm_ normal."


	41. Let's not go to Camelot

ANOR LONDO

Gwyndolin gazed out over the abandoned streets of Anor Londo. Reverent silence had returned at last to the lost city of the gods. Thea had finally arrived to report in person that the last of the Undead had left. The last deity already knew this, of course. With focus, he could use the senses of any of his illusions, and it was a simple matter to manifest a literal fly on the wall.

Still, he insisted on personal reporting of such matters. It was the proper respect a human should show a deity… and frankly, he was more than a little lonely. Ornstein had gone to Fire-knows-where, and the blacksmith (whatever his name was), had left to investigate the commotion that had occurred outside the Cathedral during the Knight-Captain's fight. Only that monster Smough was left to watch over his father's keep. It was unacceptable, but he supposed such compromises were necessary.

There were so few of his people left, and he certainly wasn't about to let one of his human Covenanters enter the keep. They were reliable and faithful, certainly, but their origins left much in question. Only Thea, bound to the bonfire as she was, held his full trust.

"I have one further incident to report, Master Gwyndolin."

"Oh? Continue."

This was strange. Surely, there was nothing those Undead had done that had slipped his careful watch. The strange disturbance the blacksmith was investigating had somehow blindsided him, but he was skeptical that two such events would occur at once.

"While I was disposing of the trespasser's body on your orders, that Serpent demanded I give it to him instead."

"Frampt did? For what purpose?"

"He did not, Master Gwyndolin. He only insisted that it was vital to the Prophecy."

"What manner of-"

The warm, golden light of dusk slowly began to dim. Gwyndolin looked up through the eyes of a sentinel and watched in horror as his artificial sun was eclipsed by fingertips. A massive hand had appeared in the sky, pale as winter and nails black as night.

"_How quaint_."

The fingers squeezed and burst the sun like a grape, and Anor Londo was cast into inky blackness. The hand vanished as well, leaving the sky a perfect void with neither moon nor star.

"_You have been a very naughty child, haven't you?_"

At last, a faint light appeared, a hazy aura of white oozing from a pitch-black moon like the white silhouette of humanity.

"_Didn't your father say to keep a tight leash on humanity? You let those Undead go with hardly a punishment for their egregious blasphemies. Stupid, deformed child!_"

Suddenly, his senses were forcibly ripped away as his real body was slapped to the floor. Velka stood before him, dressed far more regally than she had in the Painted World. She still wore a long black gown collared with crows' feathers, but overtop it was a mantle with elaborate patterns inlaid with silvern thread. Silver armlets and anklets chimed in the darkness, and her simple blindfold was replaced with a diamond-studded helmet lacking eye holes. Even still, she seemed to be looking right at him.

"I did not spend the last millennium orchestrating this elaborate play for an amateur to ruin it by acting of his own judgment. I Choose one Undead at a time for a reason. You don't need to know why; you just need to follow directions. Or do you not have ears either, you stupid mongrel?"

She kicked away his sun-shaped crown. His shoulder-length silver hair fell free, and his eyeless face was revealed.

"I did not give you my Darkmoon Blades to have a tea party, child. If you will not kill those sinners, then I will be forced to take them back."

Gwyndolin rose, his snakes uncoiling from within his gown to reveal he was much larger than he let on. He paced forward and faced her, eyelessness to eyelessness, while his snakes whipped around.

"Thou forgetest thy place! Thou art my mother, but _I_ rule Anor Londo in my father's name! I shall forgive _thy_ sin of trespassing on this tomb, but thou shalt not question the Dark Sun!"

Velka chuckled. It was a raucous, throaty laugh appropriate of a crow.

"Oh, how cute. You've finally reached that age. Honestly, I'd have let your sister go if she'd shown the slightest backbone all those years. But lo and behold! You already set her free!

Who's mommy's little rebel? What's next? Actually meeting other people?"

Gwyndolin threw out his hand, and the illusion shattered. An instant later, he toppled over as it reformed and backhanded him.

"Whose power do you think you use, child? Certainly not your father's, no matter how tightly you cling to this empty mausoleum."

Gwyndolin hissed and let a minor illusion slip. His snakes reared back and flared their hoods. Lightning arced amongst them for a moment before lashing out at the illusion, destroying it utterly.

"I take it back," Velka said, clapping as another copy approached from behind. "Maybe the fault lies with me for not taking a firmer hand in your education."

She once again took her place in front of him, hands clasped behind her back.

"Now, I know you're too clever to be fooled by some nonsense like earning my love as with your sister. But you can earn my respect by doing the right thing and removing the Chosen Undead's companions by force or by guile."

"The Dark Sun hath given a decision on the matter. As deity, thou must abide by it."

"Well, that is true, my child," Velka said plainly. "Unless, of course, I simply… took… the throne. After all, who's left to stop me? Your servants are mine, in the end."

A massive spike jutted through her chest, sparking and buzzing with power. An ear-shattering roar echoed through the chamber.

"I have _long_ waited for that admission, witch! In the name of the Lord of Sunlight, his faithful Knights, and the proud people of Anor Londo, Dragonslayer Ornstein doth commit thy name to the Book of the Guilty!"

The illusion ruptured, and Ornstein and Thea took knee before Gwyndolin and the empty coffin of the Great Lord.

"I beg forgiveness my lateness and mine intrusion, Princess of Dark Sun!" the Dragonslayer bellowed. "I did not anticipate the traitor would reveal herself as such so soon! Nevertheless, my preparations are complete!"

He bowed deeper and lowered his voice.

"With Your Highness' permission, I would take the traitor's duties as mine own."

Gone was Ornstein's beautiful armor of brass and gold. In its place was a much more sinister raiment. In truth, it was an excellent replica of his original suit, only it was forged of black iron and lined with the same eerie silver as Velka's gown. Gwyndolin grimaced, his snake eyes taking in the sight from all angles.

"If that be the wish of the Captain of the Knights, then so be it. In the name of Dark Sun, I do name thee patron of sin until an appropriate deity is found to occupy such office."

A snake gently lowered the crown back onto his head.

"Go forth and perform thy duties. Grantest not mercy to the wicked and bringest to the light of the Dark Sun, the enemies of the gods. Even those that are among our number."

"I shall," Ornstein growled. "But first, it is my duty as Knight-Captain to once more lead evacuation of Anor Londo under siege."

"Evacuate?! We will not leave the city to my mother!"

"Master Gwyndolin, please," the Darkmoon Knightess said firmly. "You gave me a second chance at life. I cannot leave here now, but you can. I have always been proud to serve the only god who stood by his station when all others fled. This time, I fear there is no choice. The city has gone dark for now, but it will only return to light again if you survive."

Gwyndolin grasped his scepter tighter and tighter until his hand shook.

"Where would I even go?"

"The safest place in Lordran now: the grave of Artorias. The Chosen Undead must seek the art of Abysswalking there. Once he arrives, we can make further plans."

"And how shall we escape? We have no way of knowing where the traitor may be hiding. She couldeth easily be listening even now."

"Gwyn's Knights will not flee like thieves in the night! Our procession will shine like the sun itself!"

"And it will sputter and die like the sun," Velka crooned, walking down the stairs dramatically.

Abruptly, there was a gleam of gold, and a blade burst through her chest, shattering the illusion.

"Stop doing that!" she hissed, appearing again out of the wall.

Without a sound, the golden line traced through the air and separated the goddess' head from her body. Again and again, she formed a new body, but each appearance was cut drastically short. At last, there came an end to either her power or her patience, and she was gone. A woman in blue, with a white porcelain mask and a golden braid knelt before Gwyndolin.

"Lord's Blade Ciaran returning to service, Your Highness."

Gwyndolin was first shocked, then indignant.

"Ciaran? My father's Knight? Thou didst vanish when I was a small child! What excuse have thee for thy negligence when Anor Londo has fallen to such squalor?"

Ciaran's tone was as smooth as her mask.

"This humble Knight begs the Dark Sun's forgiveness for herself and for her companions. All these things had must pass before Velka would Choose the prophet – and in doing so, prevent our own deaths."

"What is thy meaning?"

"Highness, perhaps thine own eyes would speak truer?"

Gwyndolin stared at her for a few moments. She was so still, it was as if she weren't breathing. The deity focused outward, trying to possess the senses of one of his illusions, but they all seemed to have been destroyed. At last, he exhaled exhaustedly and motioned for the three Knights to rise. Ornstein proudly led the group from the tomb in silence while Ciaran guarded the rear.

As they came upon the spiral staircase leading to the bridge, there was a terrible racket above as steel rent steel and a massive bow fired again and again. At the top of the stairs, they found the giant blacksmith, much of his equipment stuffed into a rough knapsack. He quickly turned the lever. At the platform's edge stood the one-armed demigod in blue who had made off with Lautrec. An arbiter spirit wielding a katana cloaked in the deadly power of the Darkmoon faced off against a massive black greatsword, but as the bridge began to move, the demigod surged into action and slashed the human into the air. As the spirit faded, two more arbiters tried to rush through the passage to Gwynevere's cathedral, but in the split-second delay, the bridge was out of their reach.

Even as the platform rotated, the sound of a greatbow firing rang out again and again. When it finally came to a stop, the reason was revealed: all across the road leading to the elevator were strewn Gough's oversized greatarrows. There were a few arbiters remaining, but they were cautious now, and those with shields had formed a small wall, behind which the others stood.

"Hah!" the giant greatarcher cried from the roof of the gazebo. "For one who has hunted dragons, steel is like so much tissue paper."

He drew a number of arrows at once and fired. The massive spears blew through the wall like a cannon. Those that weren't run through tried to scatter and recover, but the one-armed swordsman was too quick and cut through them like chaff. At last, he spun about, a wolfish grin on his lips, and knelt.

"Knight Artorias returning to service, Your Highness!"

The gazebo creaked under the giant's weight as he climbed down and knelt.

"Greatarcher Gough returning to service, Your Highness."

Gwyndolin looked between the three missing Knights, stunned. He shook it off quickly.

"Rise, my Knights, and serve me as you served my father! We have need of utmost haste! Slay the traitors where they stand, and pave my royal passage with their souls!"

"As the Princess of Dark Sun commands!" the Four Knights, plus one, shouted in unison.

"Ornstein! Thy friend does not seem so friendly!" Artorias barked.

Smough bounded down the stairs of the keep. The Dragonslayer stepped in front of him, the body of a demigod large enough to easily block the bridge designed for humans.

"Hold, Executioner! I can forgive thee abandoning thy post in these circumstances, but approach the Dark Sun with proper respect."

"Too late, I see," he sighed, leaning on his hammer.

The demigod had a strangely lyrical high-pitched voice. While his armor drastically exaggerated his size, the muscle mass required to move such an unwieldy thing was not to be underestimated.

"Well, Ornstein, I'll tell thee what Velka toldeth me: it's game over. We're running out of time before the Flame goes out. Now, sure, lighting it again doth sound great, but what then? We do it again every thousand years? It's insane."

"Funny," Ornstein growled, "thine habits wert always disgusting, but I did not think thee a traitor."

"Well, thou always had a stick up thine ass, but I did not think thee blind as Princess Trousersnake."

Smough leaned to look past his former partner. Seeing the distinguished group beyond, he sighed again.

"Mmm. On second thought, I'll let you all go. You don't have time to waste fighting me, do you? This time, I'll just say you outran me. That elevator's a pain, isn't it?"

"Hmph. At least thou still hast thy sense of humor. Our next encounter shall not be so jovial."

The Dragonslayer stepped back and ducked under the gazebo. He glanced backward, and seeing the others had gone, turned the lever. As it began to descend again, he leapt onto the road and continued to the elevator.


	42. Lex has some bright ideas

OOLACILE TOWNSHIP

Lex's basic Heal spell did manage to keep Artorias alive, though it was too weak to repair the worst of the damage. The cleric made some excuses about Petrus' prices and his dislike of the Catacombs, but Gwyn's champion would live – that was all that mattered. Ciaran had done her best to bind his shattered body together, but in the end, he looked more like a blue mummy than a knight. It would take years before he'd be ready for battle again, if ever. His ruined left arm had been eaten away from the inside by the hungry humanity, and the Lord's Blade made the hard decision of removing it at the shoulder.

"Hmph," Quelaag said quietly. "What a way for Anor Londo's finest to go. I'll have to fight him left-handed hereon."

Knowing his friend would live was enough for Gough, who had climbed onto a rooftop and was surveying the empty city below. Oscar had joined him, and they made light conversation about the Four Knights' past. Solaire was seated at the bonfire, trying to clean the lingering ooze from Artorias' sword. The corruption in the blade would likely linger, but it looked much less like sunken treasure now. Lex and Quelaag were speaking amongst themselves off to the side, but the glow of frequent Heals attracted attention as the cleric constantly burned himself by mistake.

Making sure Ciaran was watching, they shared a long, drawn-out kiss before the Chaos Witch approached the bonfire alone. She held out her hand, clawing at the air, and the ground cracked and oozed. Solaire quickly backed away as the pool of lava grew large enough to fit Quelaag's entire body, eating away most of the courtyard. She sank into the ooze slowly, smirking at the Lord's Blade and blowing a final kiss to Lex. When she had gone, the stone quickly hardened, but there was a massive crater around the bonfire now.

"Well, this would probably trip up invaders," the Earthling mused. "Not sure we're connected to any servers, though."

"What's all this, now?" Solaire asked as he sat down on the edge of the crater.

"Nothing. It's a prophet thing," Lex said, waving as if to physically swat away the question.

He looked down at the Township below with his hands on his hips.

"Well, crap. We don't have any light sources."

Solaire began to speak, but Lex shook his head and continued.

"Lightning spears don't count for some reason. And I'm not about to fight Manus without the Silver Pendant."

"What does a pendant have to do with a light source, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's behind a secret passage that opens when light is shone on it. No idea why it's there instead of with Artorias. It's part of his protective gear, after all. Speaking of which…"

He crossed the crater and headed up to where Ciaran was kneeling and watching Artorias.

"I feel kind of terrible asking, but did you find his Covenant ring? I kind of need it to kill the Four Kings."

"You humans," the tiny demigod hissed. "I know not of which you speak."

"Well, he, uh, kind of made a suspicious Covenant with quote-unquote 'beasts of the Abyss' in order to enter it without dying instantly. The actual power's in this tiny little ring, though."

"Artorias did nothing of the sort, demon-lover!"

In a flash of gold, she had one of her long knives to his throat. He swallowed.

"I'm, uh, from the future, and, uh, that's what's written in the, uh, secret texts, I guess they'd be. Not saying they're true. For example, I still don't know the whole Oolacile-New Londo timeline. Kind of a train wreck. Probably some plot holes."

"_New_ Londo?"

"Well, I guess that answers it. Artorias was said to have fought the Darkwraiths of New Londo and also to have saved Princess Dusk a short time from now. He's obviously in no shape to do the latter, and it did look like New Londo was built in the Chasm that's been opened up here. Since Artorias was fated to die here, it was a bit confusing, what with him being in New Londo. I'm guessing it was an impostor on both occasions."

Ciaran withdrew the knife.

"What's strange, though, is that Sif of my time clearly remembers Artorias fighting Darkwraiths and ghosts and stuff."

He grinned wickedly.

"Or perhaps… I don't suppose there's an Artorias Jr. hiding somewh-"

The assassin had punched him in the throat, and he stumbled backward, gagging. He meandered through the crater and swept his hand in front of the bonfire before speaking again.

"Okay, that was uncalled-for. Ornstein didn't even do anything all those times I made fun of Gwyndolin."

"Then our captain has been remiss in his duties. You will treat Princess Gwyndolin with the respect deserving of a deity."

Lex pursed his lips and threw his arms out.

"Then you treat me with the respect due the second prince-consort of Izalith."

"Izalith has fallen to madness. I know not what spell that demon beguiled you with, but-"

"Actually, I was the one that seduced her. She killed me the first time we met. And more importantly, that's a lot of crap about a Princess who only has like four subjects. Izalith has more royalty left than Anor Londo has people in general."

"What…?"

"Everyone left. I think Ornstein said it was because they were worried about getting attacked while he was the only big important dude they had. I'm from the future, remember? What little life Anor Londo has left is just Gwyndolin playing with sock puppets."

He rubbed his chin.

"Actually, that would be pretty funny to watch, if he put them on the snakes."

Ciaran gripped her knives tightly.

"I was hesitant to believe the time distortion had grown so strong as to allow physical travel, but I can hardly accept that a human would have been able to learn of the Princess'… unique constitution in this era."

She knelt and bowed deeply.

"I apologize for my previous conduct… Your Grace."

Lex shrugged, unsure how to react to her taking him seriously.

"Apology accepted, I guess? Just stop pointing pointy things at me."

She looked up at him, unmoving.

"I had not thought much of it at first. You _are_ human, aren't you?"

"Maybe a different sort of human? But probably just a regular one. No one else has noticed anything especially different about me."

"Your is strange. The heavy stench of humanity is strong, as it is on your companions. There is a different scent underneath. Like a deva of Izalith."

"Guessing a deva is like a demigod?"

"The deva are a smaller people but still larger than humans. The Witch of Izalith's kind."

"'Smaller,'" the human said, making air quotes as he looked down at her. "But, yeah. I kind of went hollow, and Quelana did a thing to revive me. Quelaav had trouble telling us apart at first. I guess the nature of the soul fragment she gave me changed or something?"

"That… how strange. But not moreso than anything else you've said."

Lex shrugged again.

"All righty then."

He sighed, grimacing.

"Well, if Artorias doesn't have the ring, I guess I'll just have to get it from Sif in my time. Right now, though, a light source is the more pressing concern. I don't suppose you know a sorcerer we could bring along that doesn't involve carting Elizabeth around in a wheelbarrow?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Yeah, I thought so. Thanks anyway."

The cleric shook his head and walked off on his own. He glanced at Solaire hesitantly and raised his hand to his ear.

"_Hey Quelaag?_"

"_Interesting. I had just returned. How long has it been for you?_"

"_Oh, no, you just left-_"

"_And you saw fit to contact me immediately? Shall I hold your hand while we go on adventures?_"

"_Uh, actually, I just remembered that I need a sunlight maggot._"

The connection went silent. There was only the sound of Artorias' labored breathing. After a few seconds, Quelaag spoke again.

"_What. What use could you possibly have for a sunlight maggot?_"

"_I need a magical light source, and the glow that miracles make doesn't count._"

"_So your first choice is a soul-devouring parasite?_"

"_Well, I'm certainly not digging around in the Catacombs for a skull lantern!_"

Nothingness, then a sigh.

"_I have a better idea_."

The bonfire crackled and smoked, and the shape of a man formed. He wore a tattered robe of rough cloth from which the sleeves had been torn. Necklaces of assorted bones, shells, and stones criss-crossed his bare chest, and a hood hung from the back of it. He had shaggy brown hair that fell on either side of his face and several days' stubble.

"Oh, uh, hello all! I hope I'm in the right place. Time, I mean. This is all so overwhelming."

"Hello, yourself!" Solaire said, placing the sword down gently and rising to greet the new arrival. "I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight!"

"Oh, yeah! I'm Laurentius… formerly of the Great Swamp. Now of Izalith, I suppose!"

He laughed nervously and looked around.

"Mistress Quelaag said that you you were in need of a light. It seems bright enough here, yeah? Where are we headed?"

Lex waved as he approached.

"Yo, Laurentius! I was a little worried when I didn't see you hanging around. I'm guessing Quelana dragged out out into the bog?"

"Master Lex! I'm honored that you remember me. We haven't seen each other since we passed at Firelink, have we? I never got a chance to really thank you after you got me out of that kitchen."

"Don't sweat it, man. But you said you could make light? I'd thought that light in particular rather than just an effect of throwing energy at something was an Oolacile-exclusive thing."

"It's not something that most people think about, yeah. I had to put a bit of work into it, but I think you'll be pleased with the result."

He held up the palm of his hand and exhaled slowly. Abruptly, he took a deep breath, and like a furnace, a brilliant red-gold sphere of light burst into life in his hand.

"Works for me!" Lex said, throwing two thumbs up.

"Wonderful!" Laurentius replied anxiously. "I'm glad you like it."

Seeing the commotion, Oscar and Gough had climbed down to meet the new arrival.

"Laurentius? I wondered what had happened to you."

"I feel awful about leaving like that," the pyromancer said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "When I heard the mother of pyromancy was near, I just forgot myself. I always meant to try and find you all to apologize, but every time I went to take my leave of Mistress Quelana, I found myself captivated by something she mentioned. Before I knew it, I was in the midst of training again. Well, then Mistress Quelaag told me to invent a light spell and threw me into the bonfire when I demonstrated my results."

"My baaaad," Lex groaned.

"Well, I'd been meaning to get away from my studies, yeah. It's not any problem to repay a part of the debt I owe you."

Ciaran rose to stand beside Gough.

"Now that you have whatever it is you needed, will you be going?" she asked seriously.

"Yeah, I just needed a light source to get the Silver Pendant from its hiding place. With Oscar and Solaire, we might have been able to do it without it, but it doesn't hurt to play it safe."

"Do what?"

"Kill Manus."

A morbid suspicion crept into Ciaran's voice.

"And who might that be?"

"The Father of the Abyss. The Furtive Pygmy. The Dark Lord. Progenitor of Humanity."

"Do you think this a game, human?! Artorias nearly lost his life, and Sif and Alvina are nowhere to be found! I don't know what legends of this time you may have heard from your lie-filled archives, but the Abyss is nothing to be made light of!"

"Ch-chill, alright? The Royal Wood is still around in my time, so Manus must have been stopped. Since you guys didn't do it, that leaves my group, right? And we're Undead, so we can throw ourselves into the Abyss like lemmings."

Ciaran lurched forward, but Gough stooped and caught her.

"Calm thyself," he said gently. "All men have their own way of making peace with death. 'tis better to make light of it than to bear another burden. After all, what is bravery without a dash of recklessness?"

"Bravado," the assassin said coldly, turning away.


	43. Classic dungeon crawl

The humans circled around the crater and down the stairs to the next platform. Though the coliseum wasn't in the best of shape, the path downward crumbled as weeds grew between the stones. Ivy and mosses had taken much of the buildings, and cockroaches skittered away as they approached. Something growled nearby, and a high-pitched shriek echoed in the distance. Lex hopped down the next flight of stairs and quickly doubled back into the ruined building under the stairs.

When the others rounded the corner, they found one of the creatures Artorias had thrown at them dead at his feet. Oscar and Solaire hardly had time to look at it then, but this time, they looked at it in horror. From its ruined clothing, it was clear that the creature had once been one of the townsfolk, but now it only held a semblance of a human shape. Its arms were stretched to nearly twice their natural length, and they straight out at right angles, ending in massive taloned hands. Its legs themselves hadn't changed, but the toes had fused into foot, becoming a bizarre sort of flipper.

Worst of all was the head, which had stretched into a round, hard shell. It was studded with countless beady red eyes, and an insect-like mouth with feelers and pincers jutted from the bottom. While the majority of the body was purplish flesh, the head was a dull brown chitin. Lex was covering his mouth and looking away.

"You know, I'm trying not to think too hard about it, but that looks pretty Chaos-y, doesn't it?"

Laurentius nodded and actually squatted down to inspect it.

"It does, yeah. What is it, if you don't mind? You never said what we were doing, Master Lex."

"This is, uh, basically what happens when the Dark gets too strong. I don't think it's the natural state of the Dark, but it always ends up like that. …friggin' No-Man's Wharf…"

Solaire looked to Lex in concern.

"How quickly do things turn like this?"

"Judging solely by Anor Londo versus Drangleic Castle, it's probably already started."

The knight was quiet for a moment.

"Then we have no time to lose!" he said at last, drawing his sword. "Lead on, Lex."

The cleric nodded and turned back to the path. Approaching the next flight of stairs, there were four more mutated townsfolk in the courtyard beyond. They were hunched over, facing the other direction without moving. Lex hopped onto a nearby rooftop and collected a soul clump from a still-human corpse while the others descended the stairs.

"Master Lex, if you would allow me…" Laurentius said, gesturing. Lex nodded, so the pyromancer turned to the monsters and shouted, "Hey! How'd you like a taste of the Great Swamp?"

The former humans whirled about, and one pointed its massive finger, shrieking wildly. They rushed the stairs all at once, but Laurentius had already summoned up a fireball. As they drew together, he hurled it forward, incinerating them before they could get near.

"Nice!" Lex said, giving a quick thumbs up.

At the end of the courtyard was a broad staircase leading down to a small gazebo. At its center was a square hole in the ground. Two more mutants on a platform below looked up and ran toward him. The knights quickly ran ahead and blocked the stairs with their shields and ran the creatures through after their wild swings broke against the iron wall. Lex sighed as he looked down the hole.

"One of these days, I'm going to remember to get rope from Quelaag instead of just letting her show up and do whatever we needed a rope for. And why don't the elevators work from the top, anyway? What are the odds that there'll be a bunch of dudes on the bottom when you call it? Aside from that one time where there is, I mean."

Nevertheless, he led the group down three landings, calling them to a halt quietly on the side of a building.

"Dark sorcerer around this corner," he whispered. "Careful if you try to block it. I mean, it's not usually a good idea to block magic anyway, but Dark magic hits like a ton of bricks. I'll rush it, but you'll need to keep the normal one from tearing me to shreds."

The others nodded, so he rounded the corner. Ahead was a regular mutant and one much taller, its whole body stretched like its left arm. Its right arm had retained a semblance of normality, and in it, the creature clutched a wild mass of branches with no obvious origin. Its head was darker and redder, and its mouth had opened up to regurgitate a fleshy mass from which numerous feelers clacked and writhed.

"I don't want to touch iiiiiit," Lex complained.

He dashed forward as the creature raised its wand. Before it could cast, he spun on one foot, striking both of the mutants with a quick slash before rolling between them. The creatures turned to lash out at him, but he rolled away again. A lightning spear flashed overhead, and the smaller mutant crumpled. Lex quickly rose to his feet and hacked through the larger one, which toppled over backward under the weight of its massive head.

The cleric grumbled and walked toward one of the ruined buildings jutting off the courtyard. He swung his sword with both hands around the corner of one of the support beams. There was an agonized shriek, and a second of the smaller mutants fell into view, its head severed from its body.

"You know what? I don't think I want that drop."

He took a soul clump off a human body slumped in the opposite corner and returned to the group in the courtyard.

"Right, so let's see if we get an unfriendly visitor before continuing," he said lazily. "After me, but watch our backs."

He descended some short stairs to a lower balcony, then continued to a landing below. Another slumped-over mutant leapt into action on the next landing, but he swept it over the side of the narrow stairway without much care. He continued down to the last landing, where the stone stairs ended, and a sturdy, if makeshift, wooden scaffold spanned a terrifying drop. They crossed to a wide turret that leaned heavily to one side as a result of the Abyss cracking the earth. There was a chest in the center of it, as if left in a place of honor.

"Don't touch it," Lex said flatly as he circled around. "Oscar, Solaire, stand on either side. When I say, stab it repeatedly."

The knights looked at him, then each other. They shrugged and took their positions.

"Now!"

Their blades shattered the wood in a spray of splinters. Abruptly, the lid flew open, and a pair of gangly arms flew out, swiping blindly at their attackers. The chest shot into the air on a pair of spindly legs, and it hissed, flailing a slobbering tongue wildly. Shocked, the knights only struck harder, and after only a moment of action, the creature had fallen over, a felt bag falling out of its mouth as it sublimated into souls. Lex nonchalantly placed the bag inside his own bottomless bag.

"Of all the things to tell us about, I think that should have been one of them!" Oscar roared.

"I didn't let you get eaten."

"Eaten-?!"

"Look, there's nothing I could have said that would have prepared you for that. I mean, how does all that body even fit inside?"

The knight sighed.

"Fine. I won't argue with you. What's next?"

"You and Solaire can go ahead and take a break here. I'm going to backtrack with Laurentius. I don't think we have to worry about it, but keep an eye on the stairs, because Chester was originally fated to invade back there. When you see the two of us walk by on that ledge over there, get ready to go."

As he spoke, he gestured to the last building they had passed. Though the glow of an orange soapstone had been rare since leaving the Asylum, it could distinctly be seen at the end of the strange ledge.

"Understood."

With that, the cleric and the pyromancer headed back up to the balcony. Part of the railing next to the stairs had crumbled away. Lex leaned over the edge.

"Master Lex, you wouldn't be thinking of…"

He shrugged and tumbled over the side. Laurentius at last gave in and followed him down.

"Murder on your shins, isn't it?" the cleric said nonchalantly.

He waved his talisman and channeled a wave of healing energy over them before continuing down the rickety wooden scaffold and around the corner. At the end, he dropped down to the stone ledge beneath and rounded another corner to stand by the glowing orange message.

"Let there be light," he quoted the text without looking at it.

The pyromancer nodded and moved in front of the message. He raised his flame and conjured the small golden-red orb again. The stone hummed and vanished in a soft glow. The pair walked under the unadorned archway, and Lex grabbed something out of a chest on the opposite side of the empty room.

"And done. Now for more suicidal jumps!"

Laurentius cringed, but Lex crouched down and broke into a sprint out the doorway. He leapt at the last moment and crashed down on the roof of a building below, sliding on the loose tiles as as crystal lizard skittered away. He took his feet carefully and slipped down to a lower part of the roof on the other side and casually stepped onto the spiral staircase abutting it. Without breaking his pace, he continued down the stairs and killed a mutant lying in ambush at the bottom, then another that rushed him. By the time the pyromancer had gathered up his courage to make the jump, Oscar and Solaire had already joined Lex at the bottom of the stairs. The cleric held out an ornate silver pendant, shaking it at Oscar.

"Aaaand you're on defense duty as usual. I don't actually know how to use this, but when you do, it'll provide about three seconds of absolute protection from Dark magic. Got it, Solaire, Laurentius? Whenever you see crazy black stuff shooting at you, hug Oscar."

The knight looked at the pendant for a few moments, then raised it high, presenting its face. When he did so, a golden wave washed out around him, forming a shimmering bubble as divine energy washed around him. When he lowered the pendant the power faded quickly.

"Great! Demonstration time! You go first!"

Lex pointed toward the buckling, crooked stone bridge ahead of them. On the other side was a mutant sorcerer who hadn't yet taken notice of them. Oscar nodded and raised the pendant again, focusing intently on it as he steadily walked across the bridge. The bright light had alerted the corrupted sorcerer, and it pelted them with massive orbs of writing Dark as they crossed. Oscar flinched as the first one came, but after seeing it bounced off of the bubble harmlessly, he continued toward it confidently.

As he approached the creature, he let the ward fall and reached for his sword, hammering into the creature's side and smashing it over the ledge to the unseen ground below. Lex motioned onward, so he rounded the corner and descended the stairs to enter a long hallway. On the other side, countless glowing red eyes leered at him as they rushed forward, but he deflected the mutant's claws over the back of his shield and ran it through. At the end of the hall was more of the inky substance that had oozed from Artorias' poisoned body. It covered the floor and the walls as if it had been spilled, but it covered the room beyond like vines and moss had covered the rest of the city. The knight hardly noticed when he riposted another mutant; the utter corruption of even a building was too horrifying.

"Ambush," Lex said casually, walking past to the opposite side of the room.

Another mutant dropped down behind him, but he whirled around and hacked it in two. He ignored the rubbish on the corpse against the wall and turned to the group as they took in the corruption.

"Ignore the glow," he said, thumbing left of the entrance. "It's a permanently-lit fireplace, somehow. Not a bonfire. Terribly disappointing, but then again, this isn't the sequel, where there are bonfires every five minutes. Anyway, this is one of those places where it's awful to not have a ranged weapon, so get ready to get beaten half to death."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Actually, Oscar, keep the pendant up. Let's just take this slow. Everyone keep close to him and move together."

They marched down the stairs in formation, the Silver Pendant of Artorias held high. Halfway down, a normal mutant and a sorcerer howled at the light, but they were washed away in a wave of fire before they could do anything. At the bottom, the room narrowed near a pillar, leaving a small gap through which they could see many more of the creatures. On a platform at the end of the room stood another sorcerer, which hurled an orb of darkness at the group. It bounced harmlessly off the globe of power, and the quartet slowly marched around the pillar.

The two nearest creatures charged them, but Solaire blocked the first with his shield and bashed it into the other. Before they could recover, Lex stepped in and hacked their legs out from under them. As the group came around the other side of the pillar, Laurentius arced another Great Fireball high overhead, taking out two more in the distance. As they closed in, the last of the "normal" monsters charged at them, but Lex gutted it before it got near. With only the sorcerer left, Solaire stared upward and hurled a lightning spear with all his might, blasting it against the wall.

As it fell limp, Lex called for a halt and doubled back. He grabbed a soul clump from a body on a shattered staircase leading outside, then rejoined the group. They exited onto what had once been a balcony and continued onto the side of a fallen building. They descended a short distance before climbing back onto a long bridge. Back into the open and much deeper into the corruption, the group began at last to notice the bits of Dark falling through the dead air like leaves.

On pedestals at regular intervals down the length of the bridge were robed statues. In their hands, they carried exaggerated versions of the bleached white branches the sorcerers of Oolacile used as catalysts, but not one of the statues still had its head. Lex held up one finger and entered the next building alone. He ran onto the elevator at the end of the passage and jumped back off as it started up.

"More sorcerers," he sighed as he rejoined them. "Oscar, we'll be counting on you again."

The knight nodded, and they set off down the bridge in formation, the golden glow of the pendant illuminating the unnatural darkness of the valley in which they found themselves. They descended to the lowest part of the bridge. Laurentius quickly lobbed a fireball at two mutants directly ahead, while Lex dodged an ambush from the left and hacked through the attacker. There were two sorcerers ahead – one on the same level and the other at the top of the stairs behind the first. Solaire blasted the first as it attempted to breach their shield with brute force, but the second tried a different spell. Abruptly, they found themselves enshrouded in a black fog.

"Run!" Lex shouted, rushing through the outer edge of the protective bubble and up the stairs.

He knocked the caster over with his first swing and ran the blade through its ribcage before it could regain its feet.

"Anyone get poisoned?" he panted, actually concerned for once.

They shook their heads. While they hadn't the forewarning the prophet had, the knights were wearing helmets, and pyromancers had a stronger natural resistance to poisons. The cleric sighed with relief and dashed back to grab a soul clump behind the first staircase before continuing. At the end of the bridge was, surprisingly, an archway sized for a demigod – as had been the case with the coliseum.

"Miniboss ahoy!" he said with fake enthusiasm as he entered."

The room ahead was a great hall with a terribly high ceiling. There were strange half-columns jutting out of the walls, most with headless sorcerer statues in front of them.

"Now that I think about it, maybe these are coffins."

Indeed, the bottoms of the pillars were human-sized rectangles with an inlaid portion that could be a door. More concerning, however, was the figure that approached them. It was a bulbous mass of flesh that thundered forward on bloated, elephant-like legs. A massive iron spike ran through its back and dragged along the ground, as did a tangled mess of chains.

"Reeeaaaally don't want to touch that one."

For the first time in a long while, he drew back a lightning spear, the Chaotic taint of his talisman causing the electricity to spark and flare even as he took aim. Solaire and Laurentius followed suit, readying their own magics. When it drew within range, they unleashed a torrent of energy into the pitiful creature, and while it was stunned, Oscar lunged at it, cutting through chain and flesh like tissue paper. He slashed through the air once to sling the black ichor from the blade, then waited for Lex to take the lead again. They continued to the end of the room, which led to a demigod-sized hallway.

The hall promptly changed to stairs. At the bottom, they rounded the corner, and Lex stepped alone onto a short platform that jutted into the darkness. A tile beneath him bearing the seal of Oolacile glowed faintly, and a quiet hum began to rise from the bottom. After a few seconds, a platform rose up from below. There was a mutant on it, but the prophet simply kicked it off and into the vast darkness below.


	44. WTB PLUS 15 GREATSWORD

Strangely, the doorway at the bottom was only human-sized. Here, the ooze coating the walls was darker than before, less a purple and more outright black. On either side of the narrow hallway were dark, cramped cells, but the bars of the doors had been wrenched open, the steel snapped like threads. The next room was small and mercifully had a bonfire in it, but chains hung eerily from the ceiling.

"What is all this?" Oscar said quietly.

Solaire just gripped his sword tighter, but Lex shook his head.

"Not one-hundred percent sure. I've heard the general ideas about it, but what exactly happened here is purely a matter of speculation. They exhumed a primeval human and drove it mad is fact. From the evidence, though, it looks an awful lot like they tortured the original Dark Lord, doesn't it?"

"Dark Lord?" Solaire murmured uncomfortably.

"Oh, right," Lex said absently. "I only told you, Oscar. It doesn't really have a whole lot of basis in fact, but there's a notion that the aspects of disparity were divided amongst the Lords. Setting aside the rest of them, if Gwyn is Lord of Light, then there must be a Lord of Darkness. Not that Dark is evil any more than Gwyndolin's con game was good. All this horrifying crap is probably just blind rage."

"Makes sense, yeah," Laurentius hummed, scratching his stubble. "The Witch of Izalith and the Gravelord are opposites. Mistress Quelana called what the Witch became a 'twisted bed of life.' The Gravelord's tomb would be a bed of death, wouldn't it?"

Lex gave a brisk nod and continued, "Four seems to be the magic number here, with Four Lords, Four Kings, Four Knights, _et cetera_. The four aspects of Dark in this time are nostalgia, joy, obsession, and hope. In a future much further than our own time, they'll be want, wrath, solitude, and fear instead. Well, Fear's a pretty nice person, actually, but it definitely seems like this is a doom of our own making."

Solaire gazed into the fire and nodded solemnly.

"We should at least free this 'primeval human' from his pain."

Opposite the entrance was a hole in the wall, bricks strewn about from something breaking through the other side. In the cavern beyond, the trail of ichor no longer covered everything but rather formed a discrete trail leading up from a gouge in the floor.

"Mind your footing," Lex said quickly as he led them down a narrow path along the cavern wall.

CHASM OF THE ABYSS

The cleric quickly skewered a crystal lizard and dropped its corpse in his bag. As the path widened, a faint yellow glow appeared to the right. He approached the prism stone despite the steepening slope and then slid down over a ledge to drop down on a waiting mutant. From there, the path continued downward, and there was instead a white glow from the depths below. Countless humanity sprites floated aimlessly in the darkness, though there was something strange about their size.

"This… is… what you promised the demons?" Oscar said slowly.

"Well, you have to disperse them and see if they leave a more manageable sprite behind, but yeah. This is the unleashed humanity of the people of Oolacile. Pretty to look at, honestly."

At last, the path left the cave wall and headed downward. As they descended, a high-pitched whine buzzed in the backs of their skulls, somewhere between singing and screaming. Near the bottom, Lex quickly veered to the left before the sprites chased after them. In a flash of dull light, the floor fell out from under them. They landed gently in a bed of gray fog, and the cleric quickly dashed into the narrow passage around the corner.

There was a meow, and a fat, gray cat faded away before he could reach it. As he dashed down the corridor, it appeared again in the distance near a demigod-sized humanity sprite. He hacked away at the soul dispersing it with two quick swings, but when he turned around, the cat had gone again. The others caught up as quickly as they could.

"What are we chasing, Lex?" Oscar said before the prophet could run off again.

"Cheshire cat," he grumbled. "We're fated not to catch her, but that's not the point anyway. Come on, we've got a wolf to save."

He paused.

"Does this make Artorias a ranger?"

The path widened now, and Lex cut through another humanity near a ramp leading back. Still, he continued straight ahead, speeding up as he saw the cat again. Two more humanity sprites floated nearby, so Oscar and Solaire tried their luck at dispersing them, getting the hang of it quickly. As the cat disappeared yet again, the cleric kicked at the cave wall behind her, causing it to vanish as well. Beyond the hidden wall was a narrow crevice that quickly grew into a rather large interior cave.

A great deal of humanity sprites milled about, and at the far end was a dim ring of golden light. The group slowed as they approached. Though it was difficult to see through the haze of the sprites, there was a man-sized wolf in the center of the light.

"Great Grey Wolf Sif, companion of Abysswalker Artorias," Lex said, grinning and crossing his arms. "Well, she's not so great yet, but give her a few hundred years."

An extra set of feet began to echo from behind. A deep, throaty chuckle reverberated through the cavern over the ambient noise of the humanity.

"So this is what that infernal feline was hiding."

"I swear to god, Chester, if shoot me, my wife will eat you."

The man in the tophat and mask extended either hand to show he was unarmed, though his massive crossbow hung across his back.

"Oh, no. You haven't anything to worry about from Marvelous Chester. Weren't my prism stones helpful on the way down?"

"Huh. I was wondering where those came from. Didn't make much sense when the whole kingdom can light their own way."

"Yes, well… I did some preemptive exploration and have located the beast's lair. You're here for the princess, are you not? I could guide you… for a price."

"Couldn't we just follow the prism stones?"

"That-! No! I mean, I didn't leave them along the whole path."

"Yes you did."

"I did nothing of the sort!"

"Wanna bet-?"

"Lex! The wolf!" Oscar barked.

Solaire had already begun to clear away the wandering sprites. Laurentius was trying to scare them away with his light spell without much luck.

"Right," Lex said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you want, Chester? Just trying to collect on the windfall of souls from killing Manus?"

"Well, there's that of course. You see, I couldn't help but notice you making friendly with those legendary Knights. Now, you seem to know me from somewhere. That's fine, but… surely, you wouldn't leave me to rot away here in this dead kingdom? All I want is for you to ask them a favor on my behalf.

Since going home seems to be out of the question, I want their protection. An escort, to Anor Londo, I suppose. I'm sure I can make my own way from there."

"I'm guessing you don't have the Lordvessel in your own timeline?"

"The what, now?"

"Bingo. I don't know if we come from the same time, but I can take you anywhere in Lordran during what I consider the present. Not that there's much of Lordran left."

"Interesting… Yes, that'll do."

The last humanity phantom dispersed, and the wolf rose from its guarded position, knocking over something behind it. It gripped a smaller, untainted copy of Artorias' sword in its teeth and stepped out of the fading circle of light. Solaire pet its head affectionately.

"What's next, Lex?" the knight said, cheering up a bit.

"Next, we head straight for the big cheese. Laurentius, I don't know what Quelaag told you. If you're not up for a fight, there's an elevator near here that'll take you back to the coliseum."

The pyromancer took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No. If I can assist you with this in any way, I won't hesitate."

"Heh. How brave of you," Chester chuckled.

Lex aggressively shrugged at the newcomer and turned back to Laurentius.

"Did Quelana ascend your pyromancy flame? I'm guessing she kept you away from the Chaos stuff since you're not covered in spikes like Kirk and myself."

"She didn't call it that, but she did share a portion of her own flame with me, yeah. And you're right. Mistress Quelana is having a hard time getting used to, well, everything."

Lex rolled his shoulders and sighed as he rapped his knuckles against the blade of his claymore.

"Well, at least we have that going for us. Between myself and the Astorans, our equipment is garbage. I did _not _think this through. Should have cleared Seath and Nito first so Oscar and I could at least have maxed our swords. Bluuuh."

"Well, aren't we the ambitious one," Chester said flatly.

"Nah. The ambitious thing was asking Quelaag to date me. Seath actually has a secondary immortality that he wants to try out, so he'll actually break his own immortality crystal for you if you can make it look like he did it on accident. And I think Nito just wants to die. Or maybe he's just horribly messed up after the whole Pinwheel business. They're both scrubs in any case."

"What did you just call the Gravelord?" Oscar blurted in disbelief.

"Look, I'm just saying that the skeletons in his room are more dangerous than he is. Pinwheel is a complete joke, and he still made off with a chunk of Papa Nito's power."

Oscar sighed.

"Let's… just… go."

Lex led the group back out of the interior cave and to the ramp they'd passed earlier, marked by the faint orange glow of one of Chester's prism stones. They followed the ledge down until the path split at another stone, with a narrow slope leading upward and a gentle ramp downward. The cleric headed upward without hesitation, again following the cavern wall. At the end of the path was a corpse with a normal humanity sprite on it, but he ducked to the right, slamming a mutant sorcerer against the wall. He took a second swing, breaking its back, and it crumpled.

That done, he put the humanity in his bag and dropped down the short ledge at the end. The mass of humanity phantoms hovered absently in the distance once more, but directly in front of him was a fallen pillar illuminated by three prism stones. The worn patterns on the stone were primitive and unlike the elaborate designs of modern Oolacile. It led into the deepest depths of the darkness, but descending alone was a nerve-wracking experience, as the individual blocks of the pillar were misaligned and crooked. At the end, Lex swung down and ducked under it to retrieve a pair of humanity sprites, which he stuffed in his bag with all the others.

The group stood at the mouth to another interior cave, though this one was much larger than the last. They continued down until a small tunnel branched off, where Lex told the others to wait. The cleric descended a narrow spiral path, hacking through a small humanity phantom to pass through to a ledge with a larger phantom on it. He quickly dispatched this one as well before turning to collect a head-sized block of bleached titanite. Stuffing it in his bag, he returned to the group, and they continued down to the next prism stone, where the left wall of the passage gave away.

"Well, here it is," Chester said, gesturing as if he'd been the one leading.

There were some humanity phantoms floating about the path ahead and the platform below and a distinctly dull and murky fog wall blocking the passage beyond. The three swordsmen cleared the ramp quickly, and the group continued as it curved back upon itself before reaching the cave floor. Lex pointed, and they turned around to clear out the rest of the humanity. At the back of the room was a soul clump, and after putting it away, he turned back to stare at the fog.

"You know what? Let's cheese the big cheese. Chester, get your crossbow and stand right over there," he said, gesturing to a small protrusion before the floor gave way.

"Hm?" he mumbled, doing as told.

The scoundrel crouched and braced the massive crossbow against his shoulder. He looked down through the scope and began chuckling.

"Oh, this is magnificently ironic. Killing a beast that lurks in the Dark by doing so oneself."

"What's this, Lex?" Solaire scolded. "Such cowardice disrespects this poor fellow. If he has already suffered at the hands of the people here, the least we could do is give him an honorable death. It's hardly surprising that one of his strongest emotions becomes fear if he's slain by a sniper's bolt without warning!"

"Yes, well, it's fine to feel that way," Chester grumbled, "but I have a vested interest in staying alive, myself. The primeval human had his chance."

Without waiting for further instruction, he shot through the inky darkness. In the distance, the bolt struck true between glowing red eyes, and a horrible roar echoed up from below. Suddenly, a vortex of darkness rose up from the pit. Oscar raised the pendant, but it did nothing to stop Manus' disembodied hand from swiping through the cavern, bowling them over.

"He's cheating!" Lex shouted as he stumbled to his feet. "Through the fog!"


	45. Number of the Beast of the Abyss

Beyond the barrier was a short ledge that served as a natural balcony over a vast pit. Lex didn't hesitate, sprinting to the edge and hurling himself into the air as he roared the hymn to activate his armor. Oscar, Solaire, Laurentius, and Sif saw him and immediately followed after. Chester, however, stopped to take stock of the situation. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about jumping blindly into the darkness with no bottom in sight, but at the same time, he was a sitting duck on the platform, the fog blocking his retreat.

After a few seconds' consideration, he sighed and followed the others down. They slowed as they neared the bottom, a warm updraft setting them on their feet gently. They stood atop a mound of dirt with a vaguely human-shaped indentation in it. Around the upturned soil were two surrounding rings of stones. Rough pillars formed a final ring, and in their midst were three large stones stacked as a crude marker of sorts.

A horrifying creature stood at the edge of the pillars, hunched over on crooked legs and supported by a left hand nearly as large as its warped torso. Teeth growing out of the hand bit into the dirt as it leaned forward to roar from the lipless mouth on its horned, eyeless head. Warped bony protrusions as large as the rest of its body rose out of its back like broken rips, an odd number of gleaming red eyes studded into them at random. A long feathery tail like Priscilla's whipped behind it, and much of its body was likewise covered in fur. In its relatively-normal right hand, it clutched a gnarled, petrified sapling crudely fashioned into a wooden axe.

"What could have been done to this man!" Solaire gasped.

"It's not that bad," Laurentius offered. "At least he's not made of lava like Master Quella."

"To be fair, broski was born like that," Lex said.

"Am I the only one who remembers we're trying to kill each other?" Oscar grumbled.

On cue, the monster lunged forward and slapped its giant hand in the midst of the group. The humans quickly scattered, but Sif twisted under the attack and hacked away at the wrist before coming face-to-face with the Father of the Abyss, snarling. As the monster swung at her, she slashed him across his face while leaping backward. Manus screamed, but quickly turned to choking as Chester shot straight down his throat. Lex had actually rolled closer to the beast to avoid the attack, and now that he'd had time to get behind it, he hacked away at it while singing.

"Yeah, I am the astro-creep! A demolition-style Hell-American freak, yeah! I am the crawling dead! A phantom in a box! Shadow in your head, say: acid, suicide! Freedom of the blast! Read the f-ckin' lies, yeah! Scratch off the broken skin! Tear into my heart, make me do it again, yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! More human than human! More human than human! More human than human! More human than human! More human than human! More human than human!"

Manus unleashed a sweeping uppercut as he whirled around, but Lex dropped back and charged a lightning spear. Another struck the primeval man from behind. He roared and turned to face his attacker, but the cleric loosed his own. As he turned again, Chester fired a spray of bolts into his back. Utterly enraged, the beast of the Abyss stomped in place and chewed at his own chest with the mouth on his left palm.

He screamed and waved his massive staff around in a circle. As he did so, a quartet of black-gray wisps formed in the air around him. One of them was near Lex, and he screamed and flailed wildly until it had dispersed.

"Destroy them! Quickly!"

As the modern humans scrambled to disperse the other wisps, the Father of the Abyss slammed the butt of his staff against the ground, causing a rush of Dark to spew from the top like oil from a rig. The individual orbs arced away from one another and fell around the area like a cage before turning sharply and rushing inward.

"Run!"

With hardly any time to recover from dispersing the wisps, the party charged directly at the roaring monster in the epicenter of the oncoming attack. Manus seemed to laugh and slammed his staff into the ground. Despite being in the midst of one spell already, a blastwave knocked the group away and streams of Dark spiraled out around him. Oscar quickly raised his pendant high into the air, and the golden light blasted away the hungry Dark on either side. Solaire, too, was within the bubble's reach, and it was a mere leap's distance away from the great wolf cub.

Chester was not so lucky, a rushing orb blasting him forward into a torrent of energy. As it rushed past him, he wobbled and struggled to remain standing, gasping and clutching at his mask. Laurentius, used to explosions, had dug his heels in and managed to avoid getting swept away by the initial pressure wave. With a quick roll, he wormed his way into Manus' personal space and flared up his pyromancy flame. Lex was the least fortunate.

As a result of funneling all his souls into Faith and Endurance and his parasitic armor, he was by far the frailest of the group. Like Chester, he had nowhere to go after being repelled, and he likewise was blasted forward by the orbs from behind and the torrents in front. When the Dark had passed, however, he was a gray husk of a human being that wheezed as it fell to its knees and dissolved into souls.

"Bull…shit…"

"Lex!" Oscar cried, his hand at his flask but realizing it was too late.

Now Laurentius slammed the ground as well, and enormous pillars of fire rushed up around him, trapping the beast and searing its flesh. Manus slammed his massive hand down on top of the pyromancer as if to pat out the flames, but the sea of flame didn't recede.

"This is for Master Lex, you monster!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Good man!" Chester laughed as he rushed into the inferno, slinging his crossbow onto his back and flapping his sleeves to drop a pair of hidden kukri into either hand.

He juked around another column of flame as it rose and dove straight into the beast's side, hacking away in a flurry of gore. At last, Manus let go of Laurentius to swat at Chester, but the masked man jumped to one side and tossed his offhand knife into the air. As it neared his main blade, he caught the handle, and the pair snapped together into a single shortsword. He swung his crossbow into his free hand and fired. As the beast recoiled, Chester rushed in and jerked the blade up through its ribcage.

Laurentius took a deep breath and backed away slowly, bones broken and exhausted from keeping up the firestorm for so long. Manus tore free of Chester and chased after him but received a lightning spear for his efforts. He hardly had time to recover before Sif charged at him, ducking under his flailing arm and slashing the wound Chester had made. Manus roared and raised his staff higher than ever, a roiling cloud of Dark forming above his head. Spears of humanity rained down on everyone at once.

Oscar sprinted ahead and slid toward Laurentius, raising his family's magic-resistant shield like an umbrella. Solaire held the Silver Pendant now and drew a lightning spear from within the protective bubble to counter the Dark storm with some thunder of his own. Sif and Chester were both agile enough to avoid the slow and steady cascade, the latter seemingly floating through the air as he leaped away rather than rolling. Hardly waiting for the spell to end, Manus chased after the nimble Chester, powering through the lightning striking at his back. His arm whipped ahead of him on a vortex of Darkness, swatting the masked man into the dirt.

Oscar and Sif rushed the beast from either side, hacking gouges out of the beast's flesh. At last, Solaire approached with sword and shield. Oscar quickly backed off and took a swig of Estus to heal Chester and Laurentius. The former chucked a black firebomb up into the monster's face as he rolled away. Solaire took the front just as Manus swung at the downed fighter with his axe-like staff.

The knight caught the blow solidly on his shield and made a quick slash with his entirely ordinary straightsword. It did little damage, but now Manus focused on this new opponent. The creature reared back and roared before unleashing a flurry of blows. A smash, then a backhand, an uppercut, and an overhand smash. Solaire held his broad shield firmly, standing strong against each attack.

At last, the creature lunged into the air and brought down its massive hand and axe together, but the experienced knight knew better and had beat a swift retreat. The Father of the Abyss drew his staff back and hurled a wave of Dark after him, but he simply presented the Silver Pendant, and the wave washed over him without effect. As Manus raged impotently, Chester peppered him with bolts and Sif made a strafing slash through his heels. The wolf turned about and growled at the creature before jabbing her sword into the ground and biting into its casting arm.

After a moment of flailing proved insufficient to shake her loose, Manus raised his mutant hand to bite her himself, but Oscar dug his sword into the back of the palm. Sif glanced upward, then released the monster, barking at the knight opposite her. He retreated quickly, raising his shield.

"Round two!"

There was a flash of steel as Lex's claymore sunk through Manus' back, all the way to the barbed hilt. With one hand, he twisted the blade, and with the other, he pressed his talisman to the pommel, electrifying it. The Father of the Abyss shrieked and bucked, his movement impeded by the blade running through his chest. His deformed hand smashed against the ground and some of the few stone pillars still standing until it bled. Then, time began to bleed.

The weight of Manus' humanity approached infinity, and his hand tore away at the present. He tried to tear away at his wounds, replacing his flesh with uninjured tissue from the distant past, but while the cleric was on his back, he was a sitting duck. He howled and unleashed another shockwave, but Lex held on tight, and Oscar healed him with a quick swig of Estus. Though not nearly as powerful as Quelaag, Laurentius melted the earth on which the beast stood, slowing it down even further as it flailed in the muck. Manus raised his staff once more, calling down another storm of Darkness to ward off his attackers.

The group was more than ready for it, though, easily evading the laggard falling humanity and clustering around Solaire and the Silver Pendant's light. Manus screamed and tore at time itself, offering brief glimpses at horrors to come and beauty long dead. A queen for want of flesh, another one rotten, a third impaled upon iron, and the last ruling endless winter. His humanity buckled under its own weight and shattered, Dark rushing away from him as his souls began to pour out.

"Not this again," Chester groaned and shot him in the chest.

The Father of the Abyss fell to his knees in the molten earth and let out one last whimper before bursting into souls, Dark and light. His principal soul clump fell to Lex, a gently purring whirl of Darkness about an otherwise ordinary humanity sprite. He looked at it, then at the ground.

"You know, in retrospect, there was an offhand chance that could have been resolved nonviolently."

Sif growled.

"Yeah, I know he did lots of bad stuff, but that's what makes us the good guys, right? We don't give up on people and just kill them because it's convenient."

She snorted.

"I'll remember that a few hundred years from now when you have that ring I need."

"But Lex, how would that be possible?" Solaire asked calmly. "You saw our foe was more beast than man. It's true we attacked first – and dishonorably – but the creature never uttered more than a snarl. Surely, his reason was long gone."

"True, but I also have half of his beloved stone pendant, which may have calmed him down a little, reason or no. I just sort of forgot I had it."

Oscar groaned and walked away, shaking his head. Chester just laughed.

"Well, that's quite all right. You can have my half as well!"

The masked man reach in his coat and withdrew the broken pendant, pressing it into the cleric's hand. Lex put it in his bag, then did the same with Manus' faintly pulsing soul. With that, some of the oppressive darkness left the cavern. Princess Dusk lay insensate at his feet, and a bonfire flickered to life some distance from the foot of the upturned grave. The entire area was enclosed in an impenetrable wall of rising Darkness.

"Can somebody help me move Dusk? I swear to god I'll drop her if I do it on my own."

Solaire and Laurentius both jumped to offer, speaking over each other by mistake.

"I would be happy to-!"

"Yeah, of course-!"

The pyromancer looked quite awkward, but Solaire laughed it off.

"Well then! Why don't you and Lex grab her arms? I'll take the legs."

The prophet shrugged, so they awkwardly carried Dusk between the three of them the short distance to the bonfire.

"Right, so still not tested everything yet," Lex said quickly. "For the time being, warping more than one person involves physical contact and may or may not work for non-humans. Or maybe even non-Undead. So anyway, Chester, grab hold of someone, and we can get out of here. Sif, if we leave you and possibly Dusk behind, the Knights minus Ornstein are at the old coliseum."

The wolf nodded and barked, so once Chester had skeptically placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder, Lex focused on the Oolacile Sanctuary and cast the group through the Fire.

OOLACILE SANCTUARY

They emerged from the bonfire without anything amiss, Sif shaking her coat as if to fling off the Abyss like water. Chester looked about slowly, and seeing Elizabeth, faced the other direction as he sat down in front of the bonfire.

"Don't keep me waiting," he teased.

Once again, the trio clumsily moved the princess, setting her down gently next to the mushroom woman. She seemed a little ruffled to see Chester in the distance but quickly recovered her composure.

"I have awaited you. You have rescued Princess Dusk and rid us of that terrible primeval human – even halting the spread of the Abyss! I salute the grandeur of yourn enterprise. Please, allow me to express my gratitude. I thank you… as do we all."

With that, she knocked some large fungal shelves from the tree beside her.

"It is not much, but these are fully-grown. When ingested, they are a potent medicine. I can only hope that you will never have need of them."

Lex picked up the discs and put them in his bag.

"No, I think I actually already know someone who might get some use out of them. Thanks."

"I only wish I could give thee more."

"No, this is great. I don't think medicine's of much use, actually, but we're working on a cure. She might need these during the recovery afterward."

He scratched the back of his head.

"Well, we should be going. Don't want to overextend our welcome in the past. So begins the legend of Abysswalker Artorias, I suppose."

The mushroom nodded – or rather, bobbed slightly.

"I will remember you, but I will keep your story to myself. No one will sing your praises, but yet your greatness will live on. For it shall be my purpose to remember all you have done for us!"

"Okay, but the first time a mushroom person cold-cocks me in the face, I'm coming back to frown at you aggressively."

He left the puzzled mushroom woman and returned to the bonfire. They linked hands again, except Chester, who sarcastically maintained contact with one finger pressing against the side of Lex's head – and Sif, who lacked hands anyway but was content to be pet by Solaire.

OOLACILE TOWNSHIP

"More errands?" Chester hummed, annoyance slithering into his tone.

"So many errands!" Lex replied with fake enthusiasm. "I could probably drop you off somewhere after this. We're going to be running in and our the Abyss for a while, and after that, we've got an everlasting dragon to slap around."

"You don't say?" the scoundrel replied, interested. "Well, maybe I could stick around a little longer."

Lex turned to Laurentius.

"Do you need to head back now? I mean, time travel, but dragonslaying isn't what you signed on for. Honestly, you didn't have to fight Manus with us – I just forgot to ask if you wanted to head back."

"Of course not! I'll stay as long as you're here, Master Lex. Even if I didn't want to, I'd be too afraid of Mistress Quelaag to return alone."

Sif had no time for this nonsense and quickly rushed out of the crater to Artorias, whimpering.

"Calm thyself!" Ciaran hissed, having been knocked away by the overeager wolf. "Artorias yet lives… diminished though he may be."

Gough climbed down from his perch atop one of the buildings, chuckling heartily.

"I see you all have returned triumphant from doing battle with that thing, the Father of the Abyss. Already, the Dark is receding, and only that old bat is left to blight the land."

"We'll get to him in a bit," Lex said casually. "I have to scrape all the humanity out of the Abyss first."

"More nonsense," Ciaran huffed.

"Okay, fine. Not all of it. As much as I can carry and make everyone else carry and cram in the bottomless box I forgot to buy."


	46. Don't drop the soul

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

After rescuing Hatless Logan and introducing him to Hanser, the Archives group had split up. Arnalt stayed with the sorcerers as a lookout, and the onion family warped to Firelink. Siegmeyer had taken the news of his wife's death hard, and while Jeremiah's presence had helped, the old knight needed some time alone. With nothing else to do, Jeremiah and Priscilla headed at last to Izalith. Thanks to the speed with which they reached the inner Archives, they passed through Anor Londo before Velka's treachery, reaching Andre's old church as the first of her Darkmoon Blades entered Sen's abandoned Fortress.

Priscilla had kept quiet, only speaking when expected, since her conversation with Seath. The Ducal shard of the Light Soul, which had made her father an honorary deity, weighed against her from its hiding place in her voluminous robes. She tried not to think about it, but she'd already thought too much about it – what life would be like if she weren't a crossbred monstrosity. It was one thing to call a dragon a god out of respect. It was quite another to be a god who also happened to be half dragon.

If she took that soul for her own, would she be welcomed in foreign lands? Would she at last be able to sit at a place of honor? Would her brother acknowledge her, even as a less important sister than the Princess of Sunlight, bless Her name? At the same time, it felt like cheating, and perhaps worse, she'd be playing into her father's hands. How would she be any less monstrous than he was if she craved after such power?

She spoke only briefly with Quelaag, still guarding the Bell tower. Jeremiah and his daughter had something to discuss, so Priscilla tiptoed away to keep from disturbing them. Unsupervised, she descended the belfry and wandered by mistake into the formerly-hidden bonfire room. Eingyi had grown used to the frequent intrusions and so said nothing, though he eyed the Lifehunt Scythe with horror. In that room, Priscilla found an existence more pale and fragile than her own.

Quelaav was not so desperately sick as she had been a short time before. Sen had been willing to part with some humanity he would have used as trap bait, and Vamos had some lying around for reasons he wouldn't disclose. Still, her illness was bad enough that color might never return to her wilted body. Seeing the spider sisters, Priscilla felt a little guilty at having complained.

"Duke Seath, is that you? Or maybe Sir Ornstein? So many people are sharing souls, it is hard to tell sometimes."

Priscilla jumped at the mention of her father. Once she recovered, she looked closer at the ill girl. She had heard that some learned in the arts of the soul could discern one from another, but using such a rare skill to overcome blindness was new. She scrounged around in the back of her mind, trying to remember the specifics of Izalithic.

"I am…" the crossbreed hesitated, "…his daughter. He gaveth his fragment of Lord Gwyn's soul to me. I have told no one, and it doth weigh heavily on me."

"Don't worry!" Quelaav squeaked. "Your secret is safe with me!"

Though her voice was loud, she lacked much of the motion that typically accompanies such enthusiasm. Her head bobbed a little bit as she shouted, and that was it. She was too weak to move her hands from their clasped position. Priscilla winced.

"Forgivest me, Your Grace. I am Priscilla. I was exiled from Anor Londo long ago and spent many years as warden and prisoner of Ariamis' Painted World. Prophet Lex didst say my skills wouldst be of use here."

"Please, there is no need to be formal. We all have a place we belong. Even I can help by tending the fire. I'm sure you'll have no problems, Priscilla. My name is Quelaav, by the way."

"Oh, no!" Priscilla said quickly. "Of course I would recognize the third princess of-!"

"Please. I am just Quelaav. My elder sisters like to pretend, but there is no need for princesses when the people are gone. Treat them with respect, but don't indulge their bad habits. We all need to move on."

Priscilla was dumbfounded. Quelaav had taken her situation much more gracefully than Gwyndolin had. The crossbreed wondered if it was just their personalities or because Izalith was so irrevocably lost while Anor Londo still stood. She swallowed.

"If thou wouldst not mind… Thou seemst at peace with all that has befallen thee. Could I trouble thee for advice on a personal matter?"

"Of course! Don't hesitate to ask me anything. It has been so long since I had someone to talk to besides my sisters. My knight, Kirk, visits with me, but he doesn't speak. Oh, I'm sorry! Do go on."

Priscilla fidgeted to herself, unable to decide on a comfortable position for her hands.

"Thy sister and thyself do not seem… uncomfortable… for the strangeness of thy forms. How didst thee become so confident when others may looketh upon thee in disdain?"

"Should I be ashamed? I am still Quelaav. Sister only lets through those she trusts, so there is no reason to fear judgment from any of them."

"I see," Priscilla murmured. "Then if thou wast to obtain a means of curing thyself, wouldst thou use it?"

"I would not. Quelara's mutation eats away at her from the inside, and Quella has been deformed since birth. I would give them such a precious thing before taking it for myself."

Priscilla's eyes bored into the floor. She had met the Princess of Sunlight once, bless Her name. Quelaav was much the same, and she wondered if there weren't traits shared by great princesses.

"I see. My father gaveth me his bequeathed soul because of his insatiable lust for knowledge. He wished to see if a strong soul couldeth produce a true deity from half of a half. He knew that I could hardly resist the chance to be… normal."

She reached into the billows of her robe and withdrew the golden, flickering ball of Flame.

"Please, takest this burden from me. I am hardly worthy to bear it. I know not if it holds the power to heal thy kin, but mine own purposes for it would be selfish."

The soul had begun to whisk back and forth like a fire in the wind.

"You would give away such a treasure?"

"If it pleaseth thee."

Priscilla moved forward, extending her hand, but as the soul passed the bonfire, it sputtered and jumped, flinging itself into the flame like a living thing.

"What-?"

As the healing fire erupted into a pillar that slagged the stone around it, Quelaav shrieked in agony. For the first time, she unclasped her hands, clawing blindly at the air. The dull, shriveled exoskeleton of her spider's body shuddered and cracked, gouts of flame erupting and tearing the shell apart. She convulsed as lava began to flow out of her mouth and eyes. Priscilla tried to freeze over the bonfire with her crystal breath despite the overwhelming heat, but it did nothing.

"The Fair Lady!" Eingyi cried, unable to approach lest he be consumed.

Priscilla didn't hesitate to rip the tough leather of the bottom of her dress, trying to physically pat out the magical flame. She recoiled, her hands blistered and turned to her last resort, readying the scythe that focused her power of Lifehunt. As she swung to snuff out the bonfire, the weapon was knocked out of her cracked hands, flipping back and wedging itself in the ceiling. Her own body followed, smashed into the cave roof by a Quelaag who threatened to outshine the Lord soul fragment.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Priscilla struggled to speak as Quelaag's powerful grip crushed her throat.

"The soul… felleth into the fire."

Quelaag quickly tossed Priscilla against the far wall and rushed to the bonfire. Her eyes burned red, and her hair came alight as she flared up her own fire and grasped the sword at the center. She grew brighter and hotter, trying to smother the bonfire with the overwhelming power she'd drained from the corrupted Artorias. Quelaav's spider legs grew longer and more disjointed, wrapping around her her lower body. Their shells cracked, and thorns erupted along with the flame, digging into her sides.

The screams of agony were loud enough to be heard throughout the Ruins, and by now, the others had made it to the doorway.

"Quelaav! Quelaav! Not again! I'm not losing anyone again!" Quelara shrieked as Quelana and Vamos struggled to hold her back.

"Sister, you can't! Only Quelaag can handle the heat!"

"That's not quite true," Sen chuckled.

The half-machine Tarkus stepped into the hallway without hesitation and lumbered into the central chamber. He walked past Quelaag without flinching and stood in front of Priscilla, at once shielding her from the heat and preventing her escape. Having already been pushed aside by the golem, they didn't immediately realize that another had entered the burning room. Kirk sprinted through to the bonfire. His armor sparked and turned red-hot immediately, and his thorns quickly caught fire.

This being his second time utterly overwhelmed by Chaos fire, he was strangely calm through the pain of his body being simultaneously destroyed and rebuilt. He wasn't mutating this time, and that was a start.

"Quelaav!" Quelaag shouted as she focused on the bonfire. "Send all of this away if you can! Use the Lordvessel!"

There was no response. She remained as she had when this had first started, stock still with her head tilted up at the ceiling in agony. Kirk stared at her.

"Quelaav!" he bellowed, speaking in her presence for the first time in his centuries of service.

There was no response.

"Laav! Laav!"

He tossed his helmet aside. Between the Chaos infesting his body and his Undead state, he hadn't aged a day since the fall of Izalith. Still, he was a well-worn veteran with graying black hair and lines on his chiseled face.

"Love, it's me! It's your Kikurinus!"

Quelaav still didn't move, but the agonized wailing quivered and changed tone. Kirk forced himself to step forward, aware that each move might be the one that took him away from the healing of the oversized bonfire. The twisted, broken spider legs had continued growing and had formed a tangled weave of thorns about the Fire Keeper. This wouldn't stop the Knight of Thorns, who at last left broke away from the healing and climbed up to her even as his armor fused with his flesh. Atop the wreath, he leaned forward to take her hands, not letting go even as his vision grew dark from suffocation in the raging inferno.

At last, the bonfire grew too strong, casting Quelaag away with a massive crack of power. Tarkus' upper body spun around to catch her, and she bounced back toward the wall of golden-red power. She was utterly immune to the power of fire that had made her, but this was neither fire nor Chaos flame. Golden Sunfire ran over her, causing her to hiss and recoil lest she lose an arm trying to push through.

"Quelaav!"

The howling had changed and now sounded almost like humming. The fire cracked, and Quelaav's exoskeleton cracked, and the scream turned to song. The tune of an ancient Izalithic hymn rang out as if she were singing in their midst. As she reached the refrain, Kirk's voice joined hers, despite his body hanging limply from her still shell. The bonfire gave one final spurt before returning to a normal, if fully-kindled state.

Quelaav's body had always been ashen as a result of her illness, but now it was literal. Kirk, too, had turned to a dusty gray-white. As the Fire Keeper shuddered, his body collapsed into the ring of legs, breaking her arms at the elbows and taking them with him. Her body leaned one way, then the other, rising slowly. Soon, the motion broke her frail neck, and her head rolled off into the cinder.

"Quelaag… I'm stuck…"

In a blur of motion, Quelaag was in the ring of thorns. Talons jutted out of the bottom of the spider body. Kirk, still alive apparently, was struggling to push the immense form of the demon arachnid. Quelaag shook off the fatigue of having spent so much power and quickly tore the spent shell upward, tearing off a massive chunk of the brittle, cracked chitin. With her legs free, Quelaav used the extra leverage to hurl the empty exoskeleton overhead.

It struck the wall and shattered morbidly. Within the thorned nest stood the reborn Daughter of Chaos atop three clawed bird's legs, a pair of brilliant pennant-like tailfeathers rising above the rear leg. From her back spouted six scarlet-feathered wings. From her head sprouted the twisted horns of a demon, though the style was rather different. She was still very pale, but rather than deathly so, she had a sort of luster to her.

"Th-thou lookest like my father…" Priscilla said faintly, the heat having taken a toll on her.

Indeed, from the pattern of the horns, to the number of wings, to the strange tripod on which she stood, she did resemble the Duke. In fact, she was still blind, her eyes having fused shut like the dragon's. Somewhat uneasy in her new body, she fluttered out of her nest and approached that side of the room.

"Please excuse me, Golem Tarkus."

The mechanical knight nodded solemnly and left to return to his work outside.

"Quelaav, don't get near-!" Quelaag started.

The Fire Keeper turned around. Unsure of what to do with her hands after having held them in that clasped position for so long, she pointed at her sister with both.

"Sister! You have been incredibly rude to our guest! What happened was an accident, and she did her best to save me. You'll be lucky if I don't tell Brother Prophet what you've done. Now, apologize to poor Priscilla, or I shan't speak with you for a whole week."

Quelaag's eyes widened.

"I, ah, apologize for jumping to conclusions."

By now, the others had rushed into the room and were pushing to get through the narrow hallway.

"Please," Quelaav said. "I am fine, really. Priscilla is the one who is hurt." She turned, smiling gently, and continued, "Would you give me your hands?"

The crossbreed extended her burnt palms. Quelaav held her own hands close together until a faint golden flame formed between them. It rang a high, clear tone and pulsed with energy. As each wave washed over Priscilla's broken skin, her wounds knitted themselves together until there was no trace of injury.

"Just like Princess Gwynevere," the exile said dazedly.

With that done, the others began to approach. Sen and Vamos had already left to return to their work and Quelana stood at the back awkwardly. The normally confident Quelara was still out of sorts and sobbed quietly while hugging one of Quelaav's legs, sniffling as lava ran down her nose. Jeremiah was at a loss for words, having been absent for much of Quelaav's time as a spider, so he settled for a hug. He continued, hugging Quelaag for facing the danger and Priscilla for being caught up in all of that.

As everyone finally started to settle down, Quelaav walked over to pet Eingyi on his bald, flaking head and turned to Kirk, seated on the edge of the thorned nest.

"I believe you have some explaining to do, dear."


	47. Nice to Kalameet you

OOLACILE TOWNSHIP

"Now, watch and see how Gough hunts dragons."

The old giant loosed one of his massive arrows as the Black Dragon arced over the valley below the Sanctuary. The spear struck the beast in the back as it turned, and with a terrible cry, it fell into the chasm. The giant chuckled.

"Yes, a truer shot was never loosed! That bat will be grounded for a good spell. The rest is in your hands. I await good tidings. Ahh, dragon slaying. Knighthood's highest calling…"

His tone grew nostalgic as he set his bow down to retrieve a new piece of wood and his knife.

"We're going to beat the crap out of him!" Lex said confidently.

Ciaran's face was still hidden behind her mask, but her reaction was self-evident. Sif wagged her tail happily and barked but made no move to follow the group as they headed through the coliseum and out the other side.

ROYAL WOOD

There was a ramp next to one of the elevator buildings that led down into the valley. At the top, where there were logs wedged into the ground as crude steps, lay a corpse with a floating soul clump on it. Lex stuffed it into his pack and led the others down into the creekbed. At the bottom of the ramp were piles of logs cut down in the kingdom's heyday, but that had been so long ago that they were overgrown with moss. As they walked alongside the shallow creek, a feral dog turned about and snarled at them.

It was no ordinary dog, but neither had it been corrupted by the Dark of the Abyss as the humans had been. Its fur had fallen out, but rather than a wrinkly, fleshy creature, it looked as though it was made of rough black stone, turning orange at its facets. Its eyes were glowing the same color. Still, a dog was a dog, and when it lunged at him, Lex knocked it out of the air with his sword, letting Oscar finish it off with a quick swipe.

"What is this, Lex?" the knight asked, feeling his sword and thinking of the hard sensation of striking the beast.

"You know, I hadn't actually thought about it since evil dogs are fairly common. It looks like these have morphed into mini-Kalameets. See, they're all obsidian-y. Now, these are the big dogs, so I don't _think_ they breathe fire."

"Well, thank the Lords for small blessings…" Oscar mumbled sarcastically.

They killed two more dogs before reaching a tall wooden barricade. The demigod-sized gate was missing, but the path was blocked by a fog wall. The humans pushed through to the other side, where the creek reached a cliff and became a small waterfall, a much more impressive one on the cliffside opposite. At the left side of the cliff was an enormously long ladder leading down into the basin below. Lex slid down first, with Oscar starting his slide once the cleric passed the halfway point.

The Black Dragon stomped into view from around the corner. It was a wicked-looking beast, long and sleek, with a single glowing orange eye in the center of its spear-like head. While the White Dragon had the wings of an insect, the Black had the wings of a bat – as Gough had mocked – and spikes that could serve as curved greatswords jutted out along its back. Lex quickly moved away from the cliff wall to give the rest of the party room to climb down. The instant he was away, however, the dragon leapt into the air and dove at him.

He tried to roll out of the way, but the beast swept its terrible claw along the ground and scooped him up. As Oscar jumped from the ladder and charged, it swooped high into the air, taking Lex with it.

"What?!" the cleric roared.

"_You thought I was downed, didn't you?_"

Like the communication rings, this voice was felt as a buzzing on the back of the neck. It was definitely the voice of the proud dragon, rich and sibilant.

"_Acting._"

The dragon raced to the end of the basin, before sharply pulling away and following the wall on the opposite side of the entrance. He perched on a stone atop the larger waterfall and idly dangled Lex over the edge.

"_Imagine my surprise when I find those three. Dear old Gough hasn't lost his touch. Tell me, human: is that Dragonslayer hiding or has he become a mere housecat?_"

"Ornstein is probably still doing his guard duty thing."

"_Yes, I suppose he has little choice in the matter. When the cat's away, the rats will play. And there are __**so **__many rats. Hm. Human, you seem rather calm about this._"

Lex shrugged as he dangled by the back of his breastplate.

"I figure falling to my death is pretty painless, all things considered."

"_You don't fear death? Funny, I thought human civilization was based around making the most of your mayfly lifespans._"

"I'm… Undead?"

"_Ah, yes, I recall. That new curiosity. Before, you know, that term referred to the bodies of my fallen brethren, which did not truly die even as they rotted away. Tell me about it._"

"Basically, if I die, I lose all my souls, including humanity, and then I get spat back out, healed but looking a lot like beef jerky, at the last bonfire I activated. If I make it back to where I died, give or take, then I can recover my souls. I can then sacrifice a humanity to the bonfire to un-jerky-fy myself. When an Undead runs out of humanity, they tend to go insane for some reason."

"_I see. My, how convenient. With so much humanity, you're nearly immortal, then, aren't you? Well, since you're headed back, do tell those three to pay me a visit._"

"What?"

"_Ta ta, human._"

Lex's screams were drowned out by the roar of the falls, and after several seconds of freefall, his body splattered on the wet ground. Kalameet looked over the basin below. Three of the other humans had made their way down the ladder and were staring up at him cautiously, while the last was making a swift retreat. How he loved the cowards. They tasted like chicken.

With a blast from his powerful wings, he flung himself into the air again and dive-bombed the opposite cliffside. As the human rushed desperately toward the clearing fog gate, he unleashed a torrent of Dark flame that flooded the overlook, killing that one as well. With a self-satisfied smirk, he wheeled about and landed near the others.

"_Hello, humans. Shall I presume that you are all Undead?_"

"Why would you-?" Oscar started.

"_I'll take that for yes_."

He breathed again, too fast and too close for the humans to get away. Solaire and Oscar raised their shields to deflect the brunt of the flowing energy, but Laurentius took the attack directly, tumbling backward. He was tougher than Chester, though, and his robes provided a cursory resistance to magic.

"_I say, you are quite durable._"

The dragon lunged forward and crushed the pyromancer underfoot before he could rise. As Laurentius erupted into souls, the knights charged in, Solaire striking at the offending foot and Oscar slashing at the great beast's underbelly. It was like striking stone, however, and they both gritted their teeth from the recoil.

"_Ah ah ah!_" the dragon scolded.

He reared up on his back legs, flitting his tail back and forth like a cat. He stooped and lowered his head toward them and beckoned with both arms and both wings. The knights fell toward him but stopped in midair before reaching the ground. As he straightened his back and raised his arms, they rose through the air. His single eye burned with a wicked light, and a horrid ringing shrieked in their ears.

At last, they fell to the ground, and the dragon raised his head again.

"_See you soon._"

Dark flame rolled over them once more, and they had no time to raise their shields. After a few moments, they both collapsed, leaving the dragon alone in the basin.

OOLACILE TOWNSHIP

"Welcome back, guys," Lex said sarcastically as the knights appeared from the bonfire.

"Don't be disheartened," Gough rumbled as he put the finishing touches on a wooden carving of the Black Dragon. "Few are those who faced Kalameet and lived, Undead or no. That old bat is just as wily as he ever was."

"But now he thinks Anor Londo has ordered his slaying," Ciaran hissed. "Losing Artorias on that Abyss mission was bad enough. We can hardly afford a guerrilla war with the Bearer of Calamity."

"We'll go back and kill him. Eventually," Lex said casually.

"What if he doesn't just sit idle and wait for you to do that?! There is _nothing_ to stop that dragon from just up and leaving! Do you realize how many people will die?! How many humans?!"

"Calm thyself," Gough said gruffly. "Thy shouting will only aggravate sleeping Artorias." He shook his great head and continued, "With all that is happening these days, what is one more Calamity? Anor Londo would do well to face them all at once while she still can."

The masked demigod stared at the helmeted giant, then turned to the prophet.

"What does your future say about the Black Dragon?"

"Nothing. He just… disappears."

"And ourselves?"

"Artorias and Sif allegedly go on to fight the Darkwraiths of New Londo, as mentioned. Gough disappears along with this coliseum. You…"

"I what?"

"Artorias is given a more elaborate grave in the Sanctuary above than the crude one you initially construct in the coliseum. It's not clear what happened to you, but… your body is found leaning against the back of the tombstone."

"I see," she said crisply. "Gough. Get your things. We're going into hiding."

"What?!"

"This future may be fate – or it may be chance. I can think of no other means by which Artorias may have been saved. I will not jeopardize that by changing these humans' history. You will disappear, and they will find 'my' body. The only problem is Kalameet."

Lex shook his head.

"Since we can travel through time, that's not an issue. We can return home, draw up elaborate plans, then come back. Quelaag might be able to seal off his escape with her web, and there's a chance Sen could just build all of us flying gear."

"Sen would?"

"Yeah, Quelaag hired him because he was sick of Velka."

"If it's not one witch, it's another," the assassin hissed. "Gough, Sif, take Artorias to the Sanctuary. It will be safer there. I must inform Captain Ornstein of what has transpired here."

Before the others could say anything, she turned and dashed into the coliseum. Gough sighed and sheathed his knife, slinging his bow onto his back.

"Let us be going as well," Chester grumbled. "The rest of you may be fine with suicide missions, but I have better things to do."

"Yeah, that's fair," Lex sighed. "Unless you want to consume all our humanity and then grab another stack of sprites from the Abyss first."

"No thank you," the masked man harrumphed.

"So, where would you like to go then?"

"Is there a place where I can easily learn what era I'm going to be living in from now on?"

"Duke's Archives it is. We've actually got some old people there right now who might just be able to tell you what you want to know. Everyone go ahead and grab on. We'll drop Chester off and then head back to Izalith."

"How convenient!" Solaire said. "My next destination was Izalith. Though I did want to visit at the Altar of Sunlight for a time."

"No problemo, Sunbro. I can take you there after we deliver the humanity."

As the group linked arms, Lex scratched his chin.

"You know, I wonder if we'll have to walk there or if I can just go directly to the third bonfire."

THE DUKE'S ARCHIVES

Oolacile faded away, and the party did find themselves at the bonfire in the rear of the Archives. Hanser, Arnalt, and Logan were all there on the balcony with them.

"Hi guys!"

"Hello, Prophet Lex."

"_What a plllllleasant surprise._"

"Hi Seath!"

He blinked.

"What?!"

The White Dragon's massive head leaned in from outside.

"_I did not exxxxxxpect you so soon, Chosen Undead._"

"I did not expect you to be here at all. Or sane. Or talkative."

After the last encounter with an ancient dragon, the rest of the group were on guard. Seath's grating, insectile voice lacked the attractive timbre that Kalameet's had, but that made them all the more wary.

"_Calm yourselves. My house arrest does not make me any less a Duuuuuuuuuke of Anor Londo._"

Laurentius had already relaxed when he saw that Lex wasn't panicking, but this made Oscar and Solaire lower their guards. Chester did not, however, and backed away from the balcony slowly, crossbow drawn.

"Chester, it's okay, apparently, Se-"

"The last one was apparently injured, and we all know how that went. I'm afraid this is where Marvelous Chester will take his leave of you."

With that, he turned and sprinted up the stairs and out of sight.

Lex shrugged.

"Just saying, you could throw _him_ in the dungeon, and no one would bat an eye."

"_Maybe later. May I ask what he mmmmeant by 'the last one'?_"

"Kalameet just wasted us all. It was pretty bad. I got thrown off a cliff."

Seath hissed.

"_So that wrrrrrrrretch yet lives._"

"Nah. We can just time travel. Not sure we can go anywhere other than Oolacile, though. That's guaranteed paradox-free since no one survives to tell what really happened there. I considered trying to change the past, but then Quelaag yelled at me, so I didn't. Ciaran made a big deal of not doing it either. Faking her death and stuff. Wasn't about to argue with her and get punched in the throat again."

"_How __**very**__ interestiiiiiing. I knew it was possible to transport oneselfffff betwixt fires, but that it could cross the gulf of time as wellllll is revolutionary. I believe I've ffffound my next project. If you wwwould, please return at a later time. I wish to test a few thiiiings before we fight to the death._"

"Ooookay then."

With that, the Chosen Undead shrugged and grabbed the others before warping home at last.


	48. Through the Fire and Flames

IZALITH PERIPHERY

His exhausted muscles strained as he spun the severed lower half of an ancient dragon round and round before letting the whole thing fly. With an explosion of stone and lava, it crashed into several like it, driving the abominations into a frenzy. As the eyeless demons tore into one another, he turned his attention to the stampede of Taurus demons coming straight for him. One step, then another, and he tore into their line with his greatsword. As limbs and ichor hurtled through the air, he rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a rain of Arachne demons dropping from the cavern ceiling.

With a wave of his flaming sword, he set their webs alight, blazing lines of fire running to the roof and down the walls as they burned in their very dens. In the distance, the Firesage looked on and chuckled while waving for another wave of Capra demons to throw themselves blindly at him. In the brief respite before the storm of steel and bone struck, he slung a bolt at the cowardly commander. As always, a mob of stone demons carved in the Firesage's image blocked it with their bodies, spraying the original with bits of glass as their bodies were slagged. Slighted, it stomped off in a huff.

As he hacked through crude iron and demon bone, he felt as if there were no end to the onslaught. Over the din of battle, though, he heard a reassuring sound from behind. The measured steps of soldiers on the march. A shadow passed overhead, and a hundred demons fell where they stood, steel spears jutting from their chests.

"FOR THE SUN!"

The cry echoed through the endless cavern as Anor Londo's proud Silver Knights, their armor blackened from weeks of combat with the Chaos demons, charged into the fray. At their head was the unstoppable god of war. He ran his great spear through the demons like a thunderbolt, coming at last to a stop at the massive foot of the Lord of Sunlight.

"My Lord, Father, you must remember not all of us have legs so long!" he laughed as he skewered another demon.

The monster towered over men – over gods and demigods, even – but so mighty was the Great Lord's soul that the beast hardly reached his knee. If not for their sheer numbers, even such terrors would be nothing to the mightiest of the Lords, even in his twilight.

"Thou'rt just worried I'll take all the glory, art thou not, Gwynael?" the old god chuckled back.

As the Lord of Sunlight cleared out the remaining demons with wide strokes of his building-sized sword, the younger god rested his dragonslayer spear against his shoulder and opened a scroll case on his hip, examining the contents.

"A message arrived from Londo just as you took off. It's labeled with the highest priority. Shall I read it to you now or wait for the crowd to clear?"

"The sender?"

"The Lion."

"Quickly, then. I don't mean to suspect those girls, but neither do I wish to give them the keys to my castle."

"As you command. Ahem.

_My dear Lord,_

_Enclosed, you will find a letter delivered, sealed, to mine hands by Lord's Blade Ciaran. Myself received a verbal message on the same subject. In the letter, you willest receive her resignation and the circumstances thereof, including the dire injury of Knight Artorias. I write you now to assure you of the sincerity with which she spoketh of the matter. Her current location and that of injured Artorias and retired Gough, she disclosed to myself privately, to be relayed to your person upon your return._

_I reiterate the seriousness with which she recounted the fanciful circumstances described in the letter. I am afraid she dideth not provide substantive evidence of her claims, so I have taken the liberty of sending an investigative team to lost Oolacile. I will write you again when they have returned._

_Ever your servant,_

_Ornstein_

Going to be honest, here. This sounds really bad. We're dropping like flies. In a few hundred years, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the stupider human nations were knocking at our door."

"Thy great-uncle Lloyd and Havel are working on a plan to prevent that. Though now I wish I'd asked them to cometh here with us."

As he rested his sword and looked about the shattered ruins, he caught sight of three more demons hurrying toward him. Each had the face of a woman and the robes of a witch but also horrible mutations that marked them as the spawn of Chaos. One had four arms and the hooves, horns, and swords of Capra demons. Another ran on all fours, her body halfway transformed into that of a jaguar with burning spots. The one at their head flew on mosquito wings and was altogether covered in chitinous plating.

The Knights tensed instinctively, though they knew these demons. Gwynael waved professionally as they approached. The massive Lord of Sunlight extended one hand for the Mosca demon to rest upon. The Capra demon came to a stop and knelt respectfully, but the Felid demon nestled up against the deity's foot and curled into a ball.

"I'm tiiiiiired, Gwyn. Just let me take a nap here, all right?"

"Quelala!" the mosquito woman buzzed self-importantly. "Stop fooling around! You're embarrassing us in front of all the Knights!"

"But Quelasa!"

"No buts!"

The Capra girl ignored the other two and began speaking.

"We have completed our survey of the remains of downtown. The-"

The Mosca quickly interrupted, "Quelaat! I am the leader of this team and your elder! Where do you get off, preempting me like that?"

Gwyn quickly held up his free hand to stop them.

"Now, now, girls. Quelasa, if thou wouldst deliver thy report…"

She curtsied in his palm, lifting the golden hem of her robes to reveal the chitin armor covered even her bare feet.

"With pleasure, Lord Gwyn. As expected, the sheer volume of lava makes most of downtown impassable. The palace grounds are likewise flooded. However, this is because the Bed is fueling the lava, which prevents it from cooling naturally. If we were to control lava of our own, we could make a floating path on top – at least long enough to cross."

"Well, I don't know about that," Gwynael said brusquely. "Even if all three of you can do that reliably, there'd hardly be enough of a path for a few of us, much less my Lord."

Quelasa glared down at him.

"If you would be so magnanimous as to allow me continue, prince…"

"All yours!"

"We've been trying to keep someone safe and out of sight of both your own Knights and the demons. For his safety and yours. In the end, you know what they say about desperate times. He can make a path large enough for your entire force, but you must promise to protect him. You must."

"Well, that's a little shady," Gwynael chuckled.

"Hush, boy," Gwyn said sternly. "Just who is this mystery fellow, Quelasa?"

For the first time, the eldest demon girl hesitated.

"Mother, being Mother, continued her work despite being heavily pregnant. Our brother survived the accident, but… He is very much a demon. He is larger and more powerful than any of the others, but he is malformed and in pain. His mind is that of a newborn rather than a monster."

She swallowed.

"As such, it is difficult to keep him focused. We don't know how he will react to those not touched by Chaos as we are, and we are deathly afraid of what will happen if the demons stop seeing him as one of their own."

Gwynael frowned. Gwyn closed his eyes and shook his head.

"That woman…" he muttered. "We cannot stand idle while Chaos' power buildeth every day. I will guard the child with my life. Tell me: what is his name?"

"We do not know what Mother and Father intended, so pressed for time, we settled on something simple. Quella."

"Then fetchest thee, young Quella, and let us hurry while the Firesage doth brood."

"Hold a moment," Gwynael said, waving. "Let's say everything goes as planned. What if little Chaos Junior gets distracted or scared and runs off? We'd be stranded on a melting platform behind enemy lines. Are we really throwing all our lives into this blindly?"

Gwyn frowned.

"What choice have we? Canst thee make us a path? There art more demons every day, while we only grow wearier."

"Maybe we could do something with the spiders' webs. I don't know."

The old Lord shook his head.

"Even if it wouldeth work, have we the time? No. Fetchest your brother, girls. We must strike now if we are to do so at all."

The Daughters of Chaos bowed and hurried back the way they had come, through the lava-filled caverns. Gwyn began the climb down at a gentle pace, far too large to fit on any of the constructed pathways. Gwynael just sighed and led the five hundred blackened Knights down what had once been a scenic walkway jutting out of the cliff wall. The path was full of Capra demons, their heavy iron blades blocking the way like a series of deadly turnstiles. It was far too narrow to make use of their greatbows, so they drew their melee weapons and marched onward.

Gone were the elegant weapons of their unstained counterparts in sunlit Anor Londo. A dragon stripped of its scales was an evasive creature. Demons were slow and brutish but ignored lesser injuries altogether. To fight such creatures, the Knights had quickly taken to using larger, heavier weapons capable of hewing demon flesh with little effort. Only the god of war himself continued using the same weapon, his hefty dragonslayer spear more than capable of running through a demon's entrails.

He thundered through the mob clear to the end of the path, where a massive demon worm bored out of the wall and hissed at him. Without breaking his pace, he jumped atop it, driving his spear through its forehead before kicking off its body to attack the Capra demons from behind. The Black Knights were no slouches, halberds charging the front line and greataxes swinging over them to strike the second. As the demons mounted a counterattack, the sword-and-shield Knights broke through to the front to hold them off while the greatswords hammered them into the stone. As they cleared through, the countless Firesage statues groaned to life and slowly hovered toward the approaching army.

They marched through the stone demons' fire breath without hesitation, their armor already black with soot and proof against further heat. While the army continued down the stairs to the next platform, Gwynael backtracked and jumped down on a balcony from above, slamming his spear through the fat neck of one of the Firesage's younger brothers. As he leapt off of the falling body, he grabbed one of the countless bare swords clattering at his belt and drilled its spiral blade into the stone floor. As the ritual implement mystically tapped into the heart of the Flame, he dashed forward and started clearing through to the Knights again.

"Any injured, get to the bonfire! I don't care if it's just a papercut! I need you in top form to breach the city gates!"

In later years, bonfires would become infinitely beneficial to the Undead. They would rise from the Flames upon death, and merely being in the presence of one could heal any wound. This came about by outright reconstruction of damaged tissue. For the Flame-born residents of Anor Londo who had only one life, the effects were much less drastic. The fires could accelerate natural healing and thus were of excellent use for relieving exhaustion, but serious injuries were a matter for clerics.

Still, they served as excellent fallback points, as highly visible beacons of health and safety. Commanders such as Gwynael often carried several ritually-prepared bonfire swords, though the means of their creation was one of Anor Londo's most closely-guarded secrets. Not that it could be easily duplicated. Healing magic came largely from within Gwyn's own clan, and while such power should be within the purview of the Witch's soul, her own preferences lay elsewhere.

"FOR THE SUN!"

With the exception of the living statues, which were stupid enough to think they could disguise themselves, the demons knew better than to try and hold the Knights at the top of the stairs. Instead, they gathered on the natural platforms and carved walkways about the gate to the lower city and the sealed elevator to the surface. They still weren't that clever, however, and Gwyn sent an entire platform hurtling into the lava as he made his way down the burning cliffs. Those on the opposite stairs were likewise cleared away by greatbows. As the first of the Knights reached the bottom, they quickly tied up the remaining pathway to prevent the demons from making use of their numbers and size.

The rest followed Gwynael back up the stairs and into the gatehouse. They slowed their pace for fear of ambush, and those fears were realized mere steps inside. The wall to the right exploded, showering the front line with thick chunks of stone. The Bed's roots lashed at them while they recoiled from the rock shower. Before the roots could sow anymore havoc, Gwynael blasted them with lightning, causing them to spasm and fall limp.

"This is the royal road, isn't it?" he said in disbelief as he looked down into the darkened passage. "Damn. If only one of those girls had stayed with us, we'd have been able to cut straight to the palace."

"My Prince, the walls!"

"What about the-? By the Sun!"

Just above their heads were human-shaped insets in the wall, with Chaos iconography carved in relief around them. Inside were human citizens of Izalith, bound by roots that were slowly sapping the life out of them. Fortunately, they were unconscious, since they looked almost like desiccated corpses.

"Cut them down!" the god thundered. "Airan, I want your team down in that passage to search for more victims then return here! The rest of you, with me!"

He started through the second archway, only to stop again. There were more humans here, only this time at eye level. Gwynael motioned for the rescue team to make note of them, then continued into the main body of the chamber. Again, the Bed was waiting for them. Roots rose up from the floor and dropped from the ceiling. All along the walls were trapped humans, the Bed draining every last drop of humanity from them as fuel for its Flame.

"To the walls! If we're lucky, it won't risk harming its food!"

Sure enough, as the demigod army edged against the walls, the roots hardly snapped at them, making only halfhearted attempts to drag them away. As they passed through the opposite doorway, the detailed walls gave way to rough hewn stone. Directly ahead was a stairway leading down an unfinished passage, while to the side was a narrower one leading up.

"Graeme! Take your men up to the elevator! Send a message topside to unseal it! It's ours, now!"

The rest of the Knights followed Gwynael down. After a short distance was a landing where the stairs doubled back. The lava that filled most of lower Izalith was easily visible through an archway at the far end of the next great hall. At first, they increased their pace, but when they reached the landing, Gwynael had to quickly call them to a halt.

"Damn those witches…"

The landing was more of a balcony. There were no stairs coming off it, nor did it look like stairs had been destroyed by the Bed. Here, the roots grew deep, one solid length running through the wall at the top all the way down through the floor several storeys below. Furious, he slammed a bonfire sword into the ground and called for a rest. The enormous root beside it writhed angrily but was unable to reach it.

"Hold on. What if I…"

He jumped atop it. Though it tried to shake him off, it was too taut to move much. Holding his spear sideways like a balance pole, he quickly made his way halfway down. Some roots which were not so firmly entrenched ripped free and swatted at him. He batted them back, throwing sparks from his spearhead that crippled them like before. He made it to the bottom without further incident, though once there, his options weren't great.

In front of him lay a courtyard overflowed with lava and behind was a dark passage completely overgrown with writhing roots. He hazarded the first option. There was a door opposite the entrance, and with some creative jumping across islands rising from the lava, he reached it without any trouble. Unfortunately, the heat had melted the stone double-door into the frame, sealing the passage. As he looked for another path, the cavern wall far to his left grew red hot and bubbled outward.

A slow wave of melted stone poured out into the existing lava, cooling to form another island of glassy stone. Quelala coughed violently as she stepped out of the tunnel behind, eventually hacking up a blob of lava like a furball.

"Huh? Gwynael? Where's everyone else?"

"Trying to figure out how to get down! You didn't mention that there was no way down!"

"Then how did you get down?"

"I climbed one of the Bed's roots."

"Then there was a way down, wasn't there?"

The god of war resisted the urge to explode at her.

"The Bed broke through one of the walls above us. The hole leads straight to the royal road. You and Quelasa can escort my Lord. Go get Quelaat so that we can pass through to the throne room."

"Hmmm… No."

"NO?!"

"The Bed is still smart like Mother. She'd knock the bridge out from under you when you were halfway across, silly."

Gwynael turned bright red with rage and embarrassment. He backtracked to the archway.

"All units, descend along the root! Single file, and watch your weapons that you don't knock each other off! Head down the tunnel in the back and left of the courtyard!"

With that, he headed back out to Quelala, who was contentedly napping at the entrance to the tunnel.

"You're kidding me! Wake up, you disgrace of a princess!"

"Mmmm… five more minutes, Quelaag."

"Quelaag is dead, and you're napping while your mother is eating your people!"

Quelala stretched like a cat, yawning, "Well, when you put it like that…"

Gwynael didn't dignify that with a response, instead heading straight down the tunnel. He found his father and Quelaat at the other end, standing on the shore of the inlet ahead.

GARDEN OF WITCHES

Beyond the roots dipping into the lava ahead was the great dome that isolated the Witch's self-sufficient palace-laboratory from the outside world. One of the Bed's roots had cracked through the immensely thick wall, and the surviving Daughters of Chaos had covertly worked on expanding the hole large enough for the Lord of Sunlight to pass through. Now that work was complete, the only problem was passing through the sea of lava that was leaking out. Gwynael set down another bonfire as a final checkpoint before they breached the wall. From the shore, he could see bounding demon-dragons. There was no telling what else was in the Witch's menagerie of horrors.

But as he spoke of the devil, Quelasa flew in through the crack in the dome, a horrifying monster with only a vaguely humanoid shape trailing behind her. It was a mess of eyes and broken limbs, lava dripping from its stone body as it whimpered constantly from the pain. It was so large that it had to stoop to pass through the hole, and even then, the mess of mangled insect limbs sprouting from its back like tree branches dragged against the top. It came to a stop obediently as the mosquito demon alighted on Gwyn's shoulder.

Though the Lord of Sunlight was immense to match the power of his soul, this creature was enormous for the sake of being enormous. Still, just as the demon princess had promised, it left a trail of lava behind that rapidly cooled and formed floating islands atop the perpetually hot Chaos lava. Gwyn's face hardened but he reached up to pat the monster on the head.

"Hello there, Quella. My name is _Gwyn_. I was a friend of your mother's."

He glanced over at his shoulder.

"He'st walking on two legs. Hath he yet learned to speak?"

She shook her head.

"No, Lord Gwyn. We think he knows how to use his body due to being a demon, but anything more mental is still out of his reach."

"A shame he doth not possess the same capacities as that blasted Firesage. But perhaps he would hath been just as wicked."

Quelala joined them, at the head of the line of Knights. There were far too many to fit on the small bit of shore.

"Let us finish this," Gwyn said solemnly.

Quelasa nodded and took to the air again, waving to her brother.

"Come on, Quella! Let's go to the palace!"

The monster make a gurgling sound and followed after her, leaving a floating path behind him. Gwyn set one foot on the glassy stone, then the other. The volcanic stone dipped under his weight, and the bit he was standing on broke off from the rest, but it didn't sink. He turned to face the gathering army.

"My faithful Knights!" he bellowed so that those on the other side of the tunnel could hear him. "We've fought long and hard to push these demons back from the surface, through the Blight Bog, and down to their lair at last! Some hath lost their lives or limbs, and each one of us willeth live with the horrors we've seen here! But I must place one final burden on you! I ask that you not enterest this fight with hatred in yourn hearts!

The demons art monsters, true! They liveth to despoil and destroy! But how sad is it that they wert born to such! The Witch of Izalith soughteth to save us from a fate that approacheth us still! I ask that you hateth only that she failed!"

The Knights raised their weapons in salute.

"LIGHT GUIDE OUR WAY!"

"Move out!"

Gwyn turned about and rushed along the path to catch up to Quella. He recoiled in horror as he saw the whole of the dome was filled with animated dragon corpses, while countless demons swarmed out of the palace. As the floating path bobbed in the lava, the monsters turned to notice the hole in their prison. No longer would they need to obey the Firesage who could open the door. Some of the dragon halves loped blindly toward the disturbance, and their fellows in turn followed to see what the fuss was about.

The Lord of Sunlight cracked a grim smile.

"I never thought I would face an army of dragons again. Come! Let me kill you all once more!"

He lunged at the nearest one, stomping it into the lava and standing atop it as the others charged. He hacked through one and quickly raised his sword to block another that had leapt at him, throwing it back into a third. As Gwynael and the Knights charged through, he crushed the body beneath him with an earth-shattering jump, flying over the path to defend the other side of the entrance, landing atop a pair of dragon torsos. As they tried to shake him off, he made use of their mad flailing to effortlessly direct his sword. As he warded off the demon-dragons, he kept one eye on the path ahead.

Though none of the demons outright spawned by the Bed had reached them yet, it seemed that the bounding demons at least were ignoring Quella and Quelasa. As Gwynael caught up, however, the demons began to swarm down the sides of the palace, and fireballs lobbed over the walls. Though the siblings were as resistant to Chaos fire as any of the other demons, Quella swatted at the attacks and began to wail, the his cries reverberating through the cavern. Unable to force him to continue, Quelasa quickly redirected her brother, having him take shelter behind one of the smaller towers surrounding the palace. As demons rushed across the bridge from the palace to the tower, Gwynael and as many Knights as could fit rushed to protect them.

They slowly hacked through the mob, pressing through to the other side of the bridge and the palace beyond. As victory seemed certain, a root lashed out from the lava, taking out the bridge's supports. It was all they could do to make it back to the tower as the stones fell out from under them. Worse, the Knights were crowding around the base of the tower as the hardened lava platforms melted behind them. The lava flowing out of Quella as he cowered provided a bit of shore on which to stand, but even that was nowhere near enough room for the five hundred Knights floating helpless on the sea of lava.

Fuming, Gwynael started another bonfire at the bottom of the tower and looked for a way up while the Knights around him warded off the Bed's writhing roots. If only Quella would stay still, they could climb up his back and over the palace walls.

"Boo!"

Abruptly, a face burst out of the lava, lunging toward him. A dozen Knights whirled around, weapons ready to defend their prince and marshal, but he raised his hand to stop them as he jumped out of the way. Quelala crashed headfirst into the bonfire, hitting her head on the sword with a resounding clang.

"What possessed you to think that was a good idea?!" he thundered.

"Iunno," she said contentedly as she curled up in front of the fire.

"I see I was too late," Quelaat said flatly as she approached, wading through the waist-deep lava as if a swimming pool. "My apologies, prince."

"What did she do?!" Quelasa screeched from behind the tower.

"Oh, for the love of Sunlight."

Gwynael looked down at his hand, then up at the enormous demon ineffectually hiding behind the tower. A mass of writhing tendrils grew out of its back.

"Quelasa," he said absently.

His calm tone was surprising and more effectively interrupted their squabbling than shouting would have been.

"Can your brother grab things with those… insect legs…? roots…? coming out of his back?"

"I- Yes. Yes, he can."

"How's his throwing arm?"

"His… His what?"

"Can he pick up something heavy and throw it with those limbs?"

"I… haven't thought to check."

"Have him throw me over the wall. And don't tell me he won't. Babies love throwing things. Gwyndolin threw food and toys everywhere when she was that age."

"Ah, but Prince Gwynael, the fall could-"

"Kill me, yes. Much like the lava and the demons. Better to die in a blaze of glory than to suffer a slow death by exhaustion. Come on, Quella, pick me up!"

The monster turned when he heard his name called but didn't understand the instruction. Quelasa knew better than to argue with Gwynael when he got some foolhardy idea in his head, so she sighed and attempted to direct her brother. With a combination of slow hand gestures and praise, he eventually lifted the war god into the air as Gwyn and the rest of the Knights approached.

"Why stop? What ails you?" he said as he strode over the crumbling pathway toward the enormous demon.

"Lord Gwyn," Quelasa said quickly, "please convince his grace, the prince, that being thrown over the walls is a foolhardy idea."

The ancient deity stopped and stroked his beard.

"Well, if there art no other means…"

He extended his hand to the demon.

"Quella, my boy, if you wouldst give me my son…"

The gesture was simple enough that he handed over Gwynael quickly.

"Like this, Quella. Watch carefully."

The Lord of Sunlight cocked his arm, and with all the gravity of the one who had peeled away the stone scales of the everlasting dragons, he threw his son like a Sunlight Spear. The god of war hurtled through the blistering air, thrusting ahead with his dragonslayer spear. After several seconds of flight, he struck stone, tearing through one demon, then another and another, before he tumbled to a stop in the midst of the most powerful of their kind. The Firesage and his brethren rose from their rough-hewn thrones. They all wielded staves and clubs carved from the roots of the archtree beneath which Izalith was built.

Worse, demons of all shapes and sizes surrounded him, though he'd left a bloody trail from his landing. The fat monster looked down at the relatively short god and laughed a horrible, throaty laugh that sounded more like gagging. Its toothy grin didn't last long, however, as the stone floor and demon flesh began to explode all around him. Black Knights crashed down like steel rain, their armored bodies tearing through bodies as they crashed throughout the palace grounds.

"Descend upon the foe! Overwhelm them! Leave none alive!" the god of war yelled as the Knights rose to regroup.

Sufficiently distracted by an entire army falling out of the sky one unit at a time, the demons hardly thought to continue guarding the wall. This time, Quelala was the one to soar through the air, cannonballing into a Capra demon and tearing its throat out. Quelaat followed like a whirligig, hacking through a pair of Taurus demons as she landed. Quelasa had entirely too much dignity for that sort of nonsense and simply joined her sisters using her own wings. With the wall clear, Gwyn himself simply hopped over from the tower island and pulled his enormous body over with ease.

"Gwynael willeth hold the demons," he said calmly as he looked over the battle raging within. "Let us hurry and stop this madness at its root."

"Of course, Lord Gwyn," Quelasa said quietly. "We will lead you to Mother's throne room."

Gwyn climbed from one courtyard to the next, following after the flying demon. Her sisters did their best to keep pace. Eventually, they descended a short set of stairs and passed under a massive archway to enter the throne room from behind, only the Witch's own entrance large enough for a Lord. A small archtree with particularly dark bark grew out of the throne. All around the circular room were the servants and laboratory assistants that had been inside the compound.

The demons had not stuck around to make the same elaborate wall carvings here – or perhaps, they hadn't been enough time before the Bed had sucked the humans dry. Countless hollows were woven into the roots that ran along the walls and ceiling, too drained to even moan mindlessly. Abruptly, the tree twisted with a sound like rope twanging taut. A humanoid face turned to look at the intruders, willow-like branches falling about its "face" like hair.

"R…u…n…" a voice wheezed.

Small roots snapped as the tree rose from its throne. It raised a staff of severed archtree root high in the air. Worked into the stone wood was a robed body.

"H…u…r…r…y…" Quelara groaned, eyes wide open but barely able to move her lips.

She screamed as the Bed of Chaos unleashed a torrent of fire at the intruders, using her as a living catalyst. Gwyn quickly moved to the front, deflecting the brunt of the attack with the flat of his enormous sword.

"Quelara!" Quelala shouted, bounding directly at the Bed.

"Stick to the plan!" Quelasa ordered calmly. "You know as well as I that it's the only way to save her."

The cat skidded to a stop but quickly rolled as the tree demon swiped at her with one of its four oversized arms. Frowning, she hopped away from one attack after the other until she was a distance away from both the Bed and the others.

"How much time willeth the sealing ritual require?" Gwyn whispered.

"Just a few minutes," Quelasa said absently. "Lord Gwyn, thank you."

"Thank me not already," he chuckled. "We yet have a fight ahead of us."

Quelala curled up and seemingly fell asleep where she was, while Quelaat hurried to the opposite side of the bed. There, she set her four swords down and sat down as well, closing her eyes in meditation. Quelasa quickly hurried to where Quelala was and began a sinister chant, making grave, purposeful movements as she danced around her sister. Gwyn shook off the chill it gave him and strode toward the front of the throne.

"We never saw eye-to-eye, Quel, but far be it from me to think we would come to blows," he growled as he ran sunlight down his blade.

The tree's "mouth" cracked open, but it said nothing, instead unleashing another wave of fire as Quelara screamed. Gwyn easily sidestepped the blast, twirling his sword to hack through roots on the floor as he moved. Lava gushed from the wounds, but still the Bed made no sound, instead lashing out with its many arms. Though it had a great deal of brute strength like all demons, such power was nothing before the Great Lord, and he easily hacked off three of the creature's "hands." When it attacked with its staff, however, he was forced to catch it.

His bones creaked as they repelled the enormous momentum of the stone pillar, but he simply roared and hacked off the final hand. As lava spewed from the monster's wrists, he leapt backwards and set the pillar against the wall.

"Quelara, willest thee survive if let alone?" Gwyn panted, patting his shoulder.

"S…t…o…p… t…h…e…m…"

"I don't understand."

Before the drained witch could explain, the Bed sent a fountain of flame snaking at them. Gwyn batted the wall away with his sparking sword and quickly strafed to the right to get Quelara out of the line of fire. Already, the tree had regrown its severed extremities and was on the move. Though anchored to its seat, the four insect wings on its back allowed its upper body to snake around with vine-like flexibility. He batted away another flurry of attacks, this one too quick for him to retaliate.

While he was focused on the main body, more roots had made their way along the floor unseen and now bound his ankles. His legs fell out from under him, and he was dragged closer to the throne. He hacked away at the roots, only for more to take their place. The tree loomed over him as more and more roots bound his limbs, though they couldn't touch his burning sword. He struggled violently, but to no avail as he was dragged deeper into a swirling mass of hungry roots.

Then Quelala screamed. There was a flash of light from where she had been lying, and a glowing, chain-like vine lashed out, rooting itself into the Bed's breast like the mother of demons did to the inhabitants of Izalith. At last, the monster groaned pathetically. It flailed at the glowing parasite, unable to touch it.

"Quelasa! What happened?" Gwyn yelled, finding the roots trapping him loosened.

She didn't respond, but he saw her fly overhead. The Bed didn't remain stunned for long, quickly turning furious. Whipping tendrils lashed at the flying demon, too slow to catch her. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Quelaat. Now wise to the witches' plan, the Bed attacked the other Daughter.

Quelasa quickly swooped down and deflected the roots with her armored body. She began singing again, even as the tendrils tore into her back and ripped at her wings. Thanks to the distraction, Gwyn had managed to rip himself free. He hazarded a quick glance to where Quelala had been. Her body was still there, the sealing vine growing from a bloody hole in her side.

He looked at Quelara across the room, understanding now. The Witch's power was Life. That sometimes meant that life was the cost of power. Gwyn had delegated Execution and only ordered such sentence rarely. The Witch had been much more liberal in her use of capital punishment.

"Wast there no other way?" he said grimly.

He had no time to mull it over. He quickly interposed his immense body between the trunk of the Bed and the Daughters, hacking away at the largest roots. Leashed to Quelala's corpse and rooted to its throne, the humanoid body was forced to bend backward to strike at them, making its attacks slow and easy to parry. Gwyn hacked off its wings to further limit its mobility, cutting again and again as it regrew them. The Bed howled in frustration and lashed out with smaller roots along the walls and floor, and while Gwyn had difficulty hitting these tiny targets, Quelasa endured as they dug beneath her chitin plates and drained her power.

At last, she dug a knife of glassy red stone through her sister's heart. Another golden vine burst out of Quelaat's chest, running through the Bed. Between the two vines, its upper body was bound to the throne, and they throbbed with power as they drained its own stolen power. It collapsed, supporting itself with its four arms but unable to stand again, its own flexibility now a weakness.

"How is thy body?" Gwyn asked as he and Quelasa slowly walked in front of the throne.

Though the Lord of Sunlight had protected her well, the injuries she'd taken while he was bound looked severe.

"No need to worry, Lord Gwyn. I can hardly complain, all things considered."

Quelasa's voice was haggard, but Gwyn accepted what she said at face value. He wasn't about to interrogate a girl who had killed two of her sisters to provide an opening to kill her mother. He stood to the right of the Bed, raising his sparking sword above the thing's neck.

"Stop… Please…"

Quelara had managed to free herself from the staff and was crawling toward them.

"Please… No more…" she choked. "We can save her… Let us try…"

Quelasa knelt down by her sister, smiling fondly but shaking her head.

"Eldest sister, I don't believe that's possible. Even if it were, it's too dangerous. I'm not Quelana. This seal isn't going to hold."

"We can hold it… We just… We just…"

Quelara gagged, then vomited lava. Her arms wobbled beneath her, and she collapsed face-first into the puddle.

"Sister? Sister?! Lord Gwyn, she's not breathing!"

The deity gave a sidelong glance at the inactive Bed and carefully laid his enormous body down amidst the roots to get a better look at the deva. Sure enough, she was stock still. He shakily held out his hand, hoping his injured shoulder wouldn't give out. A soft golden light washed over the Daughters. Quelasa's injuries began to heal slowly, but Quelara still didn't move.

"Sister! Sister, you can't!"

Quelasa bit her lip and looked down at the ritual knife in her hand. After a moment of hesitation, she slit her wrist, putting it to Quelara's lips. Gwyn focused all the more on his healing, and eventually, the eldest Daughter stirred.

"I'm… all right now," she coughed, spitting up a bit of lava.

Gwyn nodded and rose, stretching.

"What, then, shall we do with your mother?" he said grimly. "Many Knights dideth die for us to get here. They willeth free those of her victims who can be saved, but she willeth remain a danger as she doth live."

"Please," Quelasa said between coughs, "we will ensure no more demons escape Izalith. If you seal the land routes, we can hunt down the flying and climbing demons. I saw Quelaag and Quelaav as they fled. Their new bodies will be of great help if they're still sane."

Gwyn sighed.

"If that beest your wish. I will find a new home for your people."

"Tell them all is lost. We cannot afford anyone trying to return."

"I will swear my Knights to secrecy. Only Ornstein, as their Captain, and the Gravelord shall be toldeth the truth of what happened here."


	49. Halloween came early

FIRELINK SHRINE

"Hm? No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine! Well and wide awake! Do not-!"

Kingseeker Frampt looked about the chapel, but there was no one there. In the distance, one of the Bells of Awakening rang loud and clear, reverberating in his ear-pits and giving him a wicked headache.

"Has that blasted bird Chosen another Undead so soon? I wasn't told the last one went hollow."

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

"What a racket," Vamos grumbled as he released the lever. "I should unhook this, or some idiot will ring it later and spoil my focus."

As the skeletal smith began to fiddle with the Bell's mechanisms, in one of the new chambers Sen had constructed below, Quelaag lifted a brilliant scarlet and gold veil and stooped to kiss Lex. She wore the top half of a flowing black robe with intricate vine patterns adorning it, the bottom cut away so as not to blind her spider. He wore a showy orange cloak and skirt that bared his midriff and much of his legs. Quelaag had elaborate patterns drawn across her skin, while Lex had a ball of flame drawn on his forehead with an ashen pencil. As they started to pull away, Quelaag bit his lip with her razor-like teeth and licked at the blood.

Lex blinked at the minor pain and suckled on the sore spot as the guests applauded. The ceremony had been an odd mixture of Londish and Izalithic customs, not that he was familiar with either. He'd attended a cousin's wedding once – for the cake – but had been so terribly bored, he'd forgotten what even a Christian wedding was like. Still, this ceremony had involved lighting a lot of things on fire, so he was at least able to pay attention to his own wedding. Hopefully, the cake wouldn't be as disappointing as his cousin's had.

Someone with a terrible sense of humor had made the tiered cake in the shape of one of Izalith's pagodas. This of course raised the question as to which of the Izalith group was secretly a patissier. Unexpectedly, it was chocolate. Though once he saw that, he probably should have expected it to be dark chocolate. He struggled to maintain a straight face through the hated flavor as he and Quelaag fed each other.

With that, the ceremony was more or less over, and everyone formed a loose line for cake. Since everyone was either Undead or non-human, there were no other refreshments. Quelara had claimed some sort of sacred rule about being the presiding priestess to force her way to the front of the line, and now she approached the couple, the blacksmith Andre in tow. Lex wasn't sure who had convinced him to come down to New Izalith(?), but there he had been amongst the others during the ceremony.

"I know you were told not to expect anything on such short notice, but I lied," Quelara said smugly. "We needed to test our infrastructure, so I decided to be generous and give you something, my dear brother."

She waved to Andre, who was wearing a nice tunic and slacks. He held up something wrapped in a heavy black cloth. He unraveled it to reveal a massive ringed dao. The sleek curved blade and violent hamon were characteristic of Izalith, but the intricately-patterned brass rings were just as distinctly Londish.

"I had Andre here and Vamos work on it together to see if they could play nice. Honestly, I was at a loss as for what to get you. What worth is anything to one who can't die? So I thought, why not a sword to match your armor? I can hear my husband complaining about the racket already."

Lex took the sword from the cloth gently with both hands, sliding them into position as he turned it upright and felt the weight.

"You know," he said softly, in a trance, "in the far future, clerics use chimes instead of talismans."

He turned so that he was looking down an empty space in the ballroom and began chanting under his breath.

_Power up the bass cannon. Fire._

He swung hard, and as the rings jangled, there was an explosion of sound that caused the cake to quiver.

_Duran Durandal_

_Curved greatsword forged for the prophet of_

_the music-loving Chaos God Slaanesh._

_The brass rings studding the back make a_

_terrible cacophony that unleashes the power_

_of She Who Thirsts when held with both hands._

Quelaag gave the three a nasty glare, so Lex sheepishly strapped the sword to his back, solemnly placing his trusty claymore into his manpurse of holding. Quelara pat him on the back.

"Just so you know, we never found out whether her species eats their mates since they were all female. Good luck with that."

She waved flippantly and walked away to speak with Jeremiah. Andre waggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively and gave him a thumbs-up before finding an isolated corner to eat his cake in peace. Lex looked around awkwardly, adrift in a sea of people and not wanting to intrude on any conversations. Oscar had left to visit with Anastacia, so there wasn't anyone he would deliberately annoy around. At last, he noticed that Kirk was likewise standing by himself.

The Knight of Thorns had stopped wearing his helmet while he was "home." His hair was curly and black, his skin pale, and his nose hooked. Though his mutations had left his face mostly unaffected, his eyes glowed with an inner light that was somewhat unnerving.

"So," Lex started. "You're next, I guess?"

The knight took another bite before speaking.

"Laav and I have a few things to work out first."

"Yeah, I guess that reveal would be a bit hard to deal with."

They both took a bite of cake, even though Lex had been avoiding eating any more. They chewed slowly, deliberately, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

"I'm going to go talk to the wife," the cleric said at last.

"Good luck."

"Is that going to be a thing now?"

"Pardon?"

"Quelaag eating me because spider joke."

"Well. She bites everyone's head off all the time. Now, you're the easiest target. Good luck."

"Shazbot."

Nevertheless, he did wander back toward Quelaag, who was apparently being scolded by Quelaav.

"There you are," the former spider- and current bird-woman said. "How is your lip? Quelaag thought I wouldn't notice. Honestly, I don't know why she's so fond of playing rough."

"Uh, it's fine, I guess. It's not like I've never played with my food."

Quelaag sighed raggedly.

"Sister is still making that joke, then."

"Yeah, but she gave me loot, so it's okay I guess."

"Yes, we all noticed."

While they were distracted, her spider whipped out its long tongue and stole Lex's cake.

"No! Bad!"

Quelaag swatted the back of its head, but if anything, it seemed to chuckle – which was unnerving coming from a spider. Still, there was hardly any time to continue scolding it as a strange rapping noise began to echo through the room. The guests looked among themselves for the sound, but it was several moments before the source became apparent. A skeleton in a fancy funeral suit entered through the double-doors, leaning heavily on a cane that was really just a colossal femur. It put one finger to its bare teeth from embarrassment.

"Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry about this. It would seem that I misjudged just how much this bum leg of mine slows me down. Please, as you were."

Despite that, they all watched as the walking, talking skeleton strolled right up to the trio as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I know it's not your special day today, Quelaav, but I simply have to congratulate you on your spectacular recovery. I do hope you'll be able to work out that dreadful misunderstanding so that you'll be standing here soon. Don't be too hard on young Kirk – knights are prideful creatures at heart."

"Thank you very much," Quelaav said reflexively.

"Ah, and here we have the happy couple. I hope you will make the most of your short time together. Here, I brought a small-"

"Short time?" Quelaag interrupted.

"Oh, yes. A shame, but such is the way of things."

"Explain yourself, abomination," the demon spider woman hissed, lifting the skeleton by his collar.

"It is the fate of the Chosen Undead to succeed Gwyn and offer his soul to the Flame. Well, perhaps I was mistaken. It may not be possible to use the Lord Souls to gain entry to the Kiln now, since the fratricide involved would be rather distasteful."

Quelaag turned her head slowly, fire burning in her eyes. She looked at the skeleton, then at Lex, then at Quelaav, then back at the skeleton.

"I was, uh, going to try using a different soul…?" the prophet said awkwardly.

Quelaav frowned.

"If my life must end to restore the Flame, then I-"

"NO!"

Quelaag threw the skeleton across the room. The old bones did an admirable job of staying together, considering that the demon was angry enough that her veil had caught fire.

"You!" she snarled at Lex.

"I was going to figure something out!" he said quickly. "I don't want to permanently die either, and I'm not about to just _kill_ anyone… except Seath."

"Now, now, calm down," Siegmeyer said through a mouthful of cake. He swallowed and continued, "Just think positive. If there's one thing I've learned from traveling with the prophet, it's that when you run flat up against a wall, you should look for a different route."

"Well said, young man!" the skeleton said, dusting himself off ineffectually. "This is a matter of grave severity, but lateral thinking may be the key to an unforeseen outcome! You'll have to forgive me for being negative and morbid, dear Quelaag. Being dead tends to turn one's thoughts toward death."

He bowed his bony head.

"I am deeply sorry for having spoiled the festivities. I brought a gift that I believe may be of use to the groom in a conflict to come. I am afraid that it may be a bit crumpled, now."

He slipped one hand into a coat pocket and removed a small scroll and handed it to Priscilla, who was nearest.

"I will see myself out. Until we meet again."

He left as suddenly as he came, his cane clacking on the stone floor until it could be heard no longer.

"So who was that?" Lex wondered out loud.

"Don't change the subject, 'dear,'"Quelaag hissed.

"What? I said I wasn't going to do anything stupid! I don't even know how the Lordvessel works! So I was going to do something stupid and start throwing other souls in it. Like this one."

He quickly withdrew Manus' soul from his bag. It writhed and spat and tried to jump out of his hand, but he quickly grabbed hold of it and stuffed it back inside.

"Aaaaand worst-case scenario, we can try out time paradoxes. Huh. If we could invent bonfire ascetics, we could just farm the Lord souls. I don't know why that's not a valid ending in Two. Come on, B-Team, get it together."

Quelaag gave a long sigh, blowing a thick trail of smoke from her mouth.

"You see, Quelaag," Quelaav said pleasantly, "Brother Prophet knew what he was doing. There's no need for you to be angry at him – especially not today."

"Can't I say the same about Kirk?" she grumbled back.

"That's-!"

She licked her lips but couldn't find the words.

"I will consider that, Sister."

Lex smirked and walked over to where Priscilla and Sieglinde were standing.

"So what did the spooky scary skeleton get me?"

"Ah, here," the crossbreed said awkwardly, quickly handing him the scroll.

He unrolled it without hesitation, looking at the strange repeating symbols. He blinked and looked again to confirm his suspicion.

"This isn't what it looks like where I come from, but this is sheet music, isn't it?"

He angled it so that Priscilla and Sieglinde could see as well.

"Not like any that I've seen, but I think so," the knightess said, nodding.

"This is a vocal score," the half-demigod agreed, remembering her formal education.

"Master Lex, if I may be sold bold as to make a request of you…" Laurentius said quickly.

"Hm?"

"Please don't sing. You haven't much talent for it."

"Then I'll do it," Quelaag grumbled as she approached.

It was a simple but haunting aria. As she sang, the Undead and the other Daughters began to grow unsteady on their feet, struggling to keep their eyes open. The demon bride was forced to stop, indignant, halfway through when Siegmeyer began to snore.

"That was the, uh," Lex started as he shook himself awake, "the milfanito theme. Oh man, that's worse than I would have expected. It puts, uh, something vague, to sleep. Dark mutants or something. Floridians. But it affects Dark in general, I guess."

"Milf of Nito?" Quelara chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what I said when I first heard it."

"More importantly, dear Brother, you said something about 'farming' the Lord Souls. What does that turn of phrase mean and how quickly can we start?"


	50. Daily life with a monstergirl

One of the more awkward things about being a tireless immortal in a land frozen in time meant that there was no especially obvious reason to end a party. At some point, Oscar returned from visiting Anastacia, and his presence breathed new life into the reception. Still, there came a point where Lex had run out of amusing stories to tell, and yet there was no end in sight. Eventually, he decided to sneak out, careful that his new sword didn't jangle too much as he tiptoed toward the massive double doors. As he tried to silently shut them, he found that they resisted closing all the way.

A chitinous leg cracked them back open. Quelaag leaned on the edge of a door, looking down at him expectantly.

"Where, exactly, do you think you're going?"

"Restroom," he said quickly.

While neither Undead nor any of the non-human races produced waste, food altogether burned up as soul energy instead, Sen had been intrigued by the idea of indoor plumbing. From Lex's vague descriptions alone, the god of artifice had developed a functional system of hot and cold running water. While toilets were unnecessary, the idea of lounges where one could wash up and sit down to relax had been appealing enough for the god to build several of them.

"Honestly," she sighed. "If you wish to retire, simply announce it. We are under no obligation to chaperone our guests, but to abandon them is disgraceful."

"I was going to come back… Fine."

Quelaag opened the doors all the way, and they turned to face everyone.

"Second Princess Quelaag and her Consort Lex appreciate your gathering here, but we shall retire at present. If it please you, continue to enjoy yourselves."

The guests all gave brief farewells, and the couple turned away. Fortunately, Quelaag didn't catch her elder sister making lewd gestures as Lex shut the doors behind them.

"You know, you could have stayed longer," he said awkwardly.

"No, I believe I needed a break as well, after the way I behaved earlier. It was disgraceful, even to an uninvited guest. I do wonder who that was. You don't know, and Sister has refused to say. Perhaps one of Brother Vamos' acquaintances. He has not spoken overmuch of his resurrection."

"It's completely blindsided me. I'd not _seen _Velka before I came to Lordran, but I had heard of her. There shouldn't be any talking skeletons but Vamos."

"Interesting. But unimportant for now. I also needed to speak with you privately about what was said. Shall we retire to our chambers?"

"Ye- oh. Yes. Yes!" Lex stuttered as it finally began to sink in that he had gotten married.

The Belltower had originally been built above the Izalith elevator to warn of demon attacks. Since Gwyn's death and Gwynael's exile, it had fallen into disrepair. Only Ornstein was left among those who had known about it, but as Anor Londo crumbled, he could do nothing to support a secret base so far removed from the city's political games. In the short time since abandoning his Fortress, Sen had descended upon it with a small army of golems and expanded the small, broken tower into a sprawling pyramid that overlooked the great dome of the Witch's palace. In this early stage, the vast majority of the rooms were incomplete, but a number of living quarters were finished quickly thanks to furniture stolen from the unsealed passage to Anor Londo.

As Quelaag unlocked their door for the first time, the couple realized that had been a mistake. Everything was too short for Quelaag and too tall for Lex, with the exception of the human-sized chairs. There was simply no seat appropriate for the drider's body, so they had provided only for the cleric. Despite this and despite neither having any need for sleep, there were a number of demigod-sized beds pushed together at one end of the room. They both tried not to stare at them.

Quelaag quickly made her way to a wardrobe, on top of which the golems had left her few remaining possessions. Lex ducked into the attached bathroom. There were a pair of sinks and even a large brushed steel mirror. His mind wandered to Aldia's Keep, but he turned on the tap and started to wash the ash from his forehead.

"I must admit," the witch said slowly, "what that skeleton said frightened me. Not just that Quelaav would sacrifice herself. That I would be a widow so quickly. I had thought it was that Oscar fellow who was to give himself to the Flame."

The water stopped.

"Well, we hadn't really discussed it. Kind of a heavy thing. I think we both just sort of assumed it would be obvious who would go when we got there. And now that Solaire's around, he'd probably fight us for the right to do it. I mean, obviously, best outcome is that we can get a bamillion duplicates of the Lord Souls, and no one has to die."

He wiped his face with a towel made from an old tablecloth and walked back into the bedroom.

"But really? You were, uh…?"

"Don't misunderstand." Quelaag said quickly. "While I must admit I find you somewhat… charming… I would hardly deign to call it anything more than infatuation. Still… I would miss you."

"I would miss me too."

The witch snorted, trying to keep laughter from spoiling her serious mood.

"Well, it's wonderful to know who holds the fondest place in your heart, dear."

"I… do have a confession, though," Lex said hesitantly. "I'm from another world, and not in the same sense as a phantom. I don't know how Velka brought me here or ensured that I was Undead. I don't know if I'm here for good or if there's a timer that's going to run out or what. But mainly, I don't know if I've disappeared back home or if my original body is actually there and in a coma or any other terrible situation.

I'm not in any big hurry to go home. There wasn't really anything for me there. I was just an ordinary person who would have lived an ordinary life, you know? Aside from all the dying, this is pretty much a dream come true. But I'd hate for my family to worry over me."

His voice was quiet, and he leaned against the wall in thought. Quelaag nodded, then brushed a stray hair out of her face.

"I see. Then you may leave me regardless."

"I don't mean it like that!" he said quickly, waving his hands reassuringly. "Honestly, they'd probably be just as happy here. My mom always wanted a house by a lake. Not a lava lake, but we all have to make compromises, sometimes."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, would she think of a demon for a daughter-in-law?"

"I think she'd just be glad I was socializing."

"Like when you tried to sneak away from the reception?"

"Normally, I'm able to drink waaaay too much punch and spend half the time peeing."

"I see! I had taken you for a more social creature, from what I'd seen of clerics. Honestly, I care not for such events myself, though I understand their necessity. Hm. I've learned quite a bit more about you. Have you any questions about me?"

Lex rubbed his chin.

"You know, not really? I prefer to learn things as I go so I don't forget them. One thing, though. All those eggs everywhere are…?"

Quelaag inhaled sharply.

"Those are all Quelaav's!" she said quickly, embarrassed. "Not mine! We don't know much about them. She produces – ah, perhaps now she will not – she produced them whenever she absorbed humanity. If left alone, they did nothing. If taken on by a human host, they grew until they had exhausted their food. If burst by mistake, they released foul maggots that died within hours."

"Okay, great. I just wasn't sure I was ready to be father to a few hundred thousand baby spiders or anything. Sucks to be Kirk, though."

Quelaag giggled in the back of her throat.

"Well, then, how many baby spiders would you prefer?"

Lex's eyes opened wide, and he glanced about the room for an escape route.

"You should have thought about this already, dear. Brother Vamos is quite obviously missing a vital part of his anatomy. It's not so urgent as with you shortlived humans… but maintaining a line of succession is still a major concern."

As she said this, she began to disrobe, carefully folding them and putting them in one of the empty wardrobes. She was naked most of the time anyway, but this felt different. For the first time, she tugged at the gold-hemmed black ribbon and let her high ponytail down. Lex swallowed.

"W-w-what about the 'this is just infatuation' thing?"

"Oh, but aren't you the one who said this would be a 'loveless political marriage'? Well, political marriages need children to validate the union. Not getting cold feet, are you, dear? Let me warm you up…"

A halo of flame danced about her head, and the spider below burned like a massive fireball. The radiant heat alone was overwhelming. So much so that even his showy outfit was beginning to feel like a furnace.

"No, I'm fine," he said nervously. "Just concerned that I might lose my, uh… my, uh… uh…"

He sighed and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"My magical virgin powers."

Quelaag smiled broadly.

"Oh my! Shall I take your blood before I take you?"

"I guess? Does that count as foreplay?"

"Should it? What sort of creature do you make of me? Well, I suppose that would be obvious. Though I wonder. Just what is considered foreplay for the humans of your world?"

He stopped and held his fingertips to his mouth in thought. Eventually, he began to strip himself, though he did so in slow, jerky movements while making a strange sound.

"Unst unst unst unst unst unst unst."

"Stop. Please. I can't- I don't know how to react to that," she chuckled. "As spiders are concerned, I must admit you do have an excellent mating dance! I wonder if your followup performance will be as pleasing."

By now, Lex was wearing nothing more than a thin silk wrap. His skin glistened with sweat from the fire earlier. Since coming to Lordran, his weak body had been gradually transformed with the collected souls. He was lean and fit and had shaved his body hair at Jeremiah's advice so that it wouldn't by burned off.

"I see I've gotten you quite dirty. Let me clean you up…" Quelaag hummed over her shoulder as she turned toward the beds.

Lex almost jumped forward but quickly restrained himself, instead strutting after her. As he climbed onto a bed, she shifted behind him, licking the sweat from the back of his neck. He shuddered at the unexpected sensation, but pulled the wrap free from his hips.

"How's this for a Great Lightning Spear?"

Unhampered by mortal failings like fatigue and thirst, the lovemaking went on for hours and hours, ending only when the cleric ran out of "miracles." The newly-arranged room was a mess of fallen furniture and spiderwebs, but they'd worked out a system to overcome the difficulties involved with Quelaag's body shape. She leaned cozily against Lex, who was propped up on a mountain of pillows stacked on the edge of a mattress suspended in midair.

"You know," she said quietly, "perhaps it would be best if I paid a visit first."

"Hm?"

"To your world, I mean. I followed you back in time – how difficult can could finding a world be?"

"Heh. Well, there aren't any bonfires or magic at all, so… you know. Why would you want to go there anyway?"

"It's only fair that I tell your parents why you're never going back. One of your other siblings will have to carry on the family name."

Lex cringed.

"I've only got one, and that's a terrible idea. Not that family names mean anything anymore."

Quelaag chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"You'll have to tell me everything before I go. Mmm. We can go together when you're done with all this 'saving the world' nonsense. Don't you disappear on me – you're caught in my web now. I'll find you and tie you down so you can't get away."

The cleric arched his eyebrows.

"You're going to have to decide whether you hate spider jokes or not, because you're sending mixed signals."

She blew into his ear, causing him to shudder.

"It's one thing when I do it. It's another altogether when Quelara makes the same tacky jokes over and over like she was the one who inherited Mother's sense of humor."

"You know, I'd like to hear about what it was like sometime, before everything went wrong."

"Mmm. When this has ended, and I can show you the palace."

"Then it's a date," he said with an air of finality, kissing her neck.

"I believe you already owe me one."

"Right, right, right. Let's get up, have something resembling a breakfast, and then go harass the stone dragon. It wouldn't hurt to pick up Great Magic Barrier down there anyway."

At last, Quelaag pulled away, patting her spider on the head to wake it from its contented napping. It rose sleepily, bumping into Lex's suspended mattress and making it swing like a massively oversized hammock.

"I believe you have more pressing concerns, my husband," she said plainly, already back to normal.

She paced about the room as she played with her hair, trying to get the unruly mess back into some semblance of order. The human hopped down from his pillow mountain and stretched.

"Namely, those Lord Souls you yet still require. Perhaps the Gravelord does not deserve death, but those Kings of New Londo deserve worse for colluding with that Serpent. We no longer need the Darkwraiths; do crush them for me."

As she spoke, she entered the bathroom. Though ill-equipped at present, both the room and the bath showed impressive workmanship and were more than large enough to accommodate her. She turned a knob, and steaming water began to fill the stone pool, heated by the lava beneath the palace.

"A bath sounds gr-" Lex began, following after her.

"Don't you think you've kept your friends waiting long enough?" Quelaag said, glancing at him over her shoulder. "A bonfire will clean you up immediately, will it not? I'm going to stretch out in the bath, and I don't want to accidentally stab you with my leg and have to drain it to get the blood out."

The human sighed and turned to collect his things from his own wardrobe. Before he could get very far, Quelaag grabbed his shoulder and spun him back. She gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"For luck," she said a little awkwardly before looking away and stepping into the bath.


	51. A typical day in Darkroot

DARKROOT GARDEN

Entering what had once been the Royal Wood was simple enough. With Andre a citizen of Izalith, he handed over the Crest of Artorias to the second prince without much fuss. Lex and Oscar would be going, of course, but everyone else seemed otherwise occupied. Laurentius had his studies, and the Catarina family still had to work out whether Sieglinde would return home or stay with her father. Now that Siegmeyer wasn't at risk of going hollow, Jeremiah had a lot of catching up to do with his Daughters – and especially Quella.

Solaire simply stated that he had an errand to run and that he would be back as soon as he could. All the others were important for the reconstruction process, so it was back to the two from the Asylum. After visiting the hidden bonfire outside, Lex raised the old, grimy medallion to the glowing double-door. The light faded, and the doors creaked inward.

"You know, I normally use the back entrance, so I don't remember exactly what we're going to be fighting through here. A bunch of half-invisible punks. I don't know if we can talk them out of it, so keep your eye out for the sorcerer and archer."

"Fair enough," Oscar said, nodding.

Instead of an ambush, however, they found corpses. The Clan of Forest Protectors was strewn about the Garden floor, with various equally-gruesome manners of death. Some burnt alive, some splattered, others seemingly reduced to dust.

"The… hell…? Why are there bodies? Only hollows leave bodies, right?" Lex whispered.

"Wouldn't you know more about it?" Oscar replied.

"Then only hollows leave bodies. But what happened here?"

"Velka's hunters didst slay mine own again and again until they couldeth rise in the forest's defense no more. Thou must hurry, Chosen Undead. Only Shiva remaineth between the beast and the Sanctuary. We cannot allow them enter, for that would allow them summoneth their master in our very midst. So long as her servants do breacheth not the gate, these Woods art warded against all but the true Dark."

The great cat Alvina had appeared from nowhere in a whirl of fog. Aside from the surprise, Lex recoiled from just how wide her fanged mouth was up close. It was honestly scarier than Quelaag's spider.

"You know, you normally don't recognize-"

"Run, human! Speakest not!"

She dissipated again without waiting for a reply, so Lex and Oscar sprinted down the stairs and to the back of the upper Garden. They slowed to catch their breath as they crossed the cat's bridge but then hurried down into the lower part of the forest.

"Straight to the back, Oscar! Ignore the shrooms!"

As the trees cleared, a walled enclosure could be seen in the distance, another sealed door gleaming through the mist. It was at the far side of a long bridge. On the cliff above stood a man in the shimmering, overlapping plates of the Eastern set, a plain curved greatsword propped against one shoulder. Lex briefly felt awkward as he realized that his own cuirass probably came from a dead Shiva in a parallel timeline.

"Oscar, wait here and watch your back," he whispered quickly as he continued to the edge.

"Stop!" the samurai shouted. "Are you the one for whom I have waited? Ah, yes. You fit the description precisely. Hurry, friend, the Blades of the Darkmoon have not yet found us."

"It seems strange that they'd take the long way around after having gone through the main gate."

"Perhaps they wish to ensure all our defenders are slain."

Lex looked about carefully. He wasn't exactly the best at visual puzzles, but he couldn't seem to find Shiva's bodyguard anywhere.

"I know it's not really the time for this," he said as he glanced back at Oscar, "but I figure some chatter will ease our nerves. See, I know you're a collector of rare weapons. I happened to have found a very special katana recently. The Chaos Blade, it's called. Interested?"

Shiva gasped.

"The legendary sword of the ancient Undead master Makoto! I had heard it was somewhere around here, but I could never find it… It's all I could ever wish for… I'd do anything to have it…"

He spaced out for a moment, then quickly snapped into action.

"Look out, my friend!" he cried, throwing Lex behind him.

Their ambush spoiled by the double-doublecross, three trees revealed themselves as blue phantoms. One was dressed as a ninja, save for a strange, flowing silver mask, and was armed with a long katana. The next wore the armor of one of Bishop Havel's soldiers and wielded a suitably large club, though this phantom too had a strange silver mask with three points. The last wore a downscaled version of the armor belonging to Anor Londo's giant sentinels and confidently brandished a zweihander, a bearded red mask covering his face. This one threw his arms up as a silent "what the hell?" to Shiva.

"Do not underestimate these foes," the samurai said seriously, ignoring the gesture. "No doubt their masks look strange to you. Do not be fooled! They were forged with powerful magics in the time long ago when Men turned against the Lords."

"No, I know what they do," Lex said, sighing.

He unslung his new sword and stood at the ready, pacing around Shiva. Oscar approached from behind carefully, his shield raised. The group of Darkmoon Blades formed a circle, and their leader drew something from a belt pouch, tossing it to the forest floor.

"Very good!" a wooden echo of Gough's voice rang out as the trio charged.

The leader took a wild, two-handed swing at both Lex and Shiva with his zweihander. They backed nearer the cliff to avoid it, but the phantom swung again, forcing them to move in opposite directions to avoid the cliffside. While they were evading, the heavy knight had circled around, and Shiva's evasions had left his back open. The second phantom smashed the tree trunk into the back of his head, staggering him, then threw all its might into a second swing, crushing him against the ground.

"No… I was so close…" the samurai fumed as he erupted into souls.

Lex quickly backed up a few steps further and raised his sword high with both hands before slashing the open air. A bass roar exploded and blasted back the two phantoms in front of him. While they staggered, he drew up his talisman and began to chant.

_Wieso siehst du so traurig aus?_

When his armor began to smoke and snarl, the phantoms retreated carefully, pacing away from one another so that they wouldn't be caught in the same blast again. Then abruptly, the heavy knight staggered again and collapsed. Shiva's mostly-invisible bodyguard flicked the blood off his katana, then leapt into a nearby tree. Instead of rising, the injured phantom rolled sideways to get away, then flipped to its feet, far more agile than someone wearing solid rock had any right being. The leader decided to press forward to avoid a surprise attack and quickly rushed the cleric before the ninja could get close.

The final phantom was toying with Oscar. The elite knight had remained cautious, but all this did was allow it to run gleaming magic crystals along the obscene length of its blade. When he defended, it cartwheeled around him like a buffoon, trying to get behind him, and when he tried to attack, it used its katana's extreme reach to keep him from closing the distance. He scowled and looked at the other fights beyond.

"Lex, switch with me!"

The prophet hopped over a low swing and hacked at the phantom's shoulder, but it only sidestepped and transitioned into a decapitating homerun swing. He rolled under the blade now and backpedaled toward the other fight.

"Yo dawg, I heard you liked duels, so I put a duel in your duel so you can duel while you duel."

He slid under the crystal-buffed washing pole and quickly rolled to his feet beside Oscar.

"That means it's not a duel anymore!" the knight complained as he began to pace around the approaching phantom.

It would be forced to fight him or be flanked, and if it tried to fight them with its teammate, it would risk getting bass cannoned again. Unfortunately, the third phantom joined them, with the ninja nowhere to be found.

"Oscar, can you hold them off for a second? Thanks."

He took a few steps back as the trio rushed forward. Oscar screamed something incoherent in frustration and readied his shield. As the three long weapons crashed down at once, he stepped into the combined attack, brushing it aside like grass. He stepped forward again and drove his demon-slaying sword through the already-injured Havel phantom's stone armor with all his might. By the time the other two had regained their balance, the third member of their team had dissipated.

"Holy-! Well now it looks like I'm compensating for something!" Lex complained as he walked forward with his living armor eating away at his flesh and his ornate sword burning with Chaos flame.

He raised the sword overhead as he chanted, then unleashed another sonic boom to separate the phantoms. He charged the katana wielder while Oscar drew his rapier and patiently followed the swordsman. The crystal-covered washing pole flitted from side to side, forming a wall of razors, but Lex quickly rolled under, rising beside the phantom and cutting a burning hole in its side. It quickly flipped out of the Chaos cleric's range, only to receive a cut to the shoulder as it only barely dodged the ninja's surprise attack. It retaliated in a flash, but the ninja quickly deflected the brunt of the blow with his katana.

The crystals lightly scraped over the blade, and the ninja was sprayed with tiny shards. The attack did little damage, but that was enough. Shiva's bodyguard looked at his hands in horror as his whole body slowed and was overrun with crystal growths. In mere moments, he had frozen solid, and the phantom ruthlessly shattered his fragile body.

"Is that really necessary?" Lex said nervously. "You don't see me running around giving people egghead, you know. I bet I could if I wanted to."

The phantom only swung in response, and he was forced to roll again, this time with a bit of desperation. Oscar was facing the opposite situation. Though he'd changed to a faster weapon, the lead phantom kept rolling out of his reach and taunting him. At last, the phantom grew tired of that game and took a wild swing, spinning around sideways with the force of the blow. The elite knight saw the attack coming from a mile away and simply raised his shield.

Strangely, he nearly taken off his feet as a phantom blade slammed into his side. As another drunken attack came, he threw himself to the ground, going under it and rising to face-to-face with the horrid mask. Quickly stepping back to give himself room, he unleashed a flurry of blows inside the phantom's guard. Yet on the fifth attack, he was suddenly blasted back and through the air. A swirl of Dark energy evaporated around the phantom as he rose.

It waved its free hand tauntingly. On its finger was a ring of black iron set with a black diamond, the seal of the true Darkmoon and all the unsavory magics of Velka. Oscar breathed deeply and set aside his swords and shield. The phantom shrugged tauntingly, waiting for him to close the distance, but he held his ground. At last, it rushed him, feinting to one side and then spinning to attack from the other.

The knight caught the attack with his body, hungry Chaos flame eating at a gash in his chest. He locked his hands onto the burning-hot blade even as it dug into him. He pivoted on his back leg and he took the blow, twisting the sword with arms like pistons and stomping forward. He'd felt from the last blow that like Lex, the phantom made up for physical weakness with a magical heavy weapon. Oscar was no Siegmeyer, but winning in a matter of pure strength was simple.

The zweihander wrenched around, and the phantom was dragged behind it. The knight smashed the phantom into a nearby tree and yanked its sword away while it was stunned. He tossed the long, unwieldy thing over his shoulder and waited for his opponent to recover. The phantom wasted no time in rolling around him like a human wheel, clearly making for its sword. The instant it reclaimed the blade, it swung defensively in a circle, but it has misjudged Oscar's distance.

The elite knights of Astora were trained in all forms of combat and nothing to be made light of. He guided the phantom's attack with his hands as it reached the end of its arc, and with a slight tug downward, he'd dug the end of the blade into the dirt. His elbow snapped into the side of the phantom's mask head, and he kneed it in the stomach as it staggered. At last, he grabbed its tunic and took it to the ground, pinning it. If grievous harm would trigger a counterattack, then he simply had to immobilize the enemy – which was a hell of a lot easier than immobilizing Artorias.

"Lex, how are you doing?"

The prophet had been playing the dodging game with the other phantom. They alternated between rolling in circles while taking pot shots and strafing each other faster and faster in the hopes of getting a backstab opportunity. Unfortunately, the battle was taking its toll on the cleric, whose enhanced armor was eating away at him constantly. At last, he took his sword in two hands and made a heavy overhanded swing. The phantom easily flipped to one side and started to counterattack, but Lex hadn't finished yet.

He leaned hard into the swing and swept his long curved sword in an arc in front of him. While this too was easily evaded, a stream of Chaos flame suddenly burst from the flat end of the blade. Quelara's Chaos Fire Whip extended from the end of the weapon, drastically extending its reach and washing lava over the phantom. As it dissipated, Lex sighed.

"Man, I thought the cast time on that would kill me like it usually does. For future reference, if anyone dies to that horrifying crystal stuff, you need to go harass Seath for purging stones. Though using them may count as a crime against humanity."

"I don't think I want to know," the knight said, shaking his head. "What should we do with this one? Interrogation? Would that even work?"

"Honestly? I don't think Velka's the type to share her plans."

"I think you're right."

Oscar shifted to snap the phantom's neck, but he'd underestimated its equip load. It stood up suddenly as if he weighed nothing and shrugged. The knight struggled to keep his hold as it ran full bore toward the bridge. It hopped over the short ledge and tumbled forward, throwing Oscar from its back as it rolled through the fall. Lex lunged after it, but it had too much of a head start.

It quickly reached the end of the bridge and kicked at the sealed gate. As the double doors slowly began to creak open, it turned around and taunted again. Abruptly, it jerked forward. There was the sound of flesh tearing, and it dissipated without any obvious injury.

"By the Lord, do I have to do everything myself!" Ciaran hissed, flicking the phantom ichor from her knives.


	52. Hwee cap-toored eet fohr Kay-ohss

Things were a little tense as the groups looked at each other awkwardly. The Knights didn't want to preempt their master, but Gwyndolin was too embarrassed about being forced out of his city to say anything to a Chosen Undead who had already mocked him. Lex, of course, was used to NPCs lore-dumping before any new content, so he was more patient than usual. Sif was curled up, sleeping with one eye open, and the giant blacksmith was gathering his tools.

At last, Alvina spoke, hissing, "Enough! My Hunters dideth not perish for you to idle like frightened children! Chosen Undead, Anor Londo hath fallen into Dark, and soon even this Sanctuary will offereth no protection!"

Gwyndolin winced and started to speak, but he was too slow. The one-armed, silver-haired demigod approached the humans, respectfully falling to one knee.

"Thank you two. For saving me when I should have been truly lost. Ciaran toldeth me everything thou said, prophet. I wasn't able to save New Londo, as thou didst predict, but I did get that ring thou needest."

He held the simple purple band between his thumb and forefinger, placing it in Lex's hand.

"I wondered…" Oscar said. "It _was_ you in Anor Londo. Knight Artorias, if I might ask, what happened to that monster, Lautrec?"

Artorias sniffled.

"I don't agree with his actions, but he was ever a faithful servant of the gods as we all. He hath gone to deliver a message to his goddess, Fina. With luck, she willeth join us in our last stand."

He sniffed again. He suddenly got very close to Lex, causing him to lean backward uncomfortably.

"Thou smellest like demon," he growled.

"You bet I do! High five!"

After a moment, the Knight remembered what Ciaran had said about the prophet. He slapped the human's hand, then drew it down into a vigorous handshake.

"Truly? With that Quelaag? A feat worthy of legend!"

Ornstein approached in his new Old Dragonslayer armor before things got out of hand. He put a firm hand on Artorias' shoulder.

"If thy business is concluded, our lady needeth speak."

"Thou'rt just jealous because thine order is sworn to chastity."

The Dragonslayer kept his calm, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Thine wast as well. We all were."

Artorias shrugged and rose. He quickly took a place beside Ciaran, putting his arm around her. She pushed it away, but he just found a new position. She sighed.

"If this tomfoolery is over," Ornstein steamed, "Princess…"

Gwyndolin nodded.

"The city of Gwyn hast fallen to her enemies. Even here, we are pursued, and without thine assistance, this last Sanctuary wouldst have fallen. We underestimated the persistence of our pursuers. Chosen Undead and second prince of Izalith, I know not the squalor over which thou rulest, but my royal personage would be safer hidden in the demon wastes than trapped here. According to the ancient pact, the Princess of Dark Sun requesteth asylum of Izalith."

Lex shrugged.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not going to leave you hanging just because you're a terrible person. But, uh, what exactly happened? Who would even _want _Anor Londo? What's the point in conquering an empty city?"

"It is a symbol of the traitor's power," Gwyndolin said coldly. "To where will my people look when they findeth the Flame alight and their power restored? They will seeth not the image of the Princess of Sunlight but the Darkmoon."

"I see," Lex said, nodding smugly. "Well, good thing Izalith's going to usurp your position as world leader anyway."

"Doth thy tongue betray you? What madness grippeth thee?"

"Look, okay. Each time the Fire fades, you lose more people. Eventually, it reaches the point where no one's really sure if there are still gods or if it's just a bunch of dead humans that people are worshiping. And the other way around: your brother is still vaguely remembered but assumed to have been a human hero. Countless kingdoms rise and fall over the ashes of Lordran.

Now, King Vendrick of Drangleic will become the greatest and wisest of the human monarchs. Only, he'll realize the truth too late to save himself or his kingdom. 'Inherit fire and harness the Dark,' he said. 'Such is the calling of a true leader.' I wonder: what does that sound like?"

"I do not follow thy meaning," Gwyndolin said, frustrated. "Why should I care for the words of human monarch? Only a human wouldeth be so arrogant as to speak of harnessing the _Dark_."

"No, no no, Uncle Dolan. Someone not human already did. A Flame that uses Dark as a source of power rather than destroying it. The only Flame that, time after time, has to be sealed away because it can't be extinguished. Am I coming through clear, or am I going to have to start quoting Jeff Goldblum?"

"Thou canst not be serious!" the deity spat. "Thou wouldst order the world with demons?!"

"If it works! It's not like the whole 'Way of White' thing produced the Chosen Undead. Now, I'm going to assume that while Chaos can drive one mad, it's only as bad as any of the other things that do that. It's a matter of having a strong soul. The only reason the Ivory King failed is because he was overwhelmed.

My wife and her sisters were changed but not driven mad because they were strong enough to resist the newly-created Bed. Nothing changes on my end, then. I must collect strong souls. Not to sacrifice to the Kiln, but to keep myself sane. Thus begins the Age of Chaos."

"Sane? Thou art already mad!" Gwyndolin hissed, horrified.

"Ha!" Oscar interrupted. "You're finally going 'mad with power' like you said you would."

Ornstein stepped forward defensively, but Lex held up both hands to show he meant no harm.

"Look, this is pretty much the only option that doesn't involve convincing psychopaths to kill a bunch of people and then themselves. Maybe one day, we'll understand the soul like Vendrick did, but for now, let's settle for world domination on the backs of an army of immortals. There's already proof that Chaos can be connected to a bonfire. I just wonder what will happen to all the Undead if I connect it to the Kiln."

"Thou wouldst not dare defile that place!" Ornstein snarled.

"I wouldn't call it 'defiling,'" Lex said, shrugging. "I mean, ignoring the horrible side effects, the Witch's plan _worked_. Gwyn's sacrifice bought us time, but then everyone squandered it on stupid crap. I mean, you guys were obviously all occupied, but what about everyone else? What about the real Gwynevere?

I mean, did anyone even try anything? Because from an outsider's perspective, it looks like only the fratricidal lizard did anything remotely useful. Apparently, no one even knows about the last stone dragon, who I dearly hope is voiced by Sean Connery."

Ornstein's hand quivered as he gripped his spear with enough force to shatter stone.

"I will set aside thine insults to the gods for now. Where is the beast?" he growled.

Gough rose, chuckling quietly at first, but he was soon unable to control his laughter.

"One last hunt!" the giant thundered.

Artorias' hand went to his sword, and even Ciaran had visibly tensed.

"Is there really a need to kill it? I mean, it doesn't talk or anything, but it doesn't seem hostile. Heck, dragonbr- uh, covenanters tend to have a little better duel etiquette."

"Undead haveth formed a covenant even with a dragon?!" Ornstein roared. "Quickly! We must slay it at once!"

"Quelaag didn't seem to think-"

"Of course not! The Witches foughteth always at a _safe distance_! They knoweth not the true terror of the dragons!"

"Are we talking about the same Quelaag?"

"Listen, thee-!"

Artorias relaxed and quickly put his hand on Ornstein's shoulder. The Lion's head snapped to glare at him. After a moment, he it dawned on him how shameful his behavior had been. Clenching his fist, he took a knee.

"This Knight of Gwyn beggeth forgiveness for his transgression."

"Suuuuuure…" Lex said awkwardly, not certain how to react.

Ornstein nodded deeply and rose again while Artorias stepped forward to speak.

"Some of the Witch sisters did fight dragons when the need was dire. I can only imagine what that Quelaag is like off her mother's leash, but in those days, that family hunted as a pack. Rare was the occasion where they were separate and rarer still when they were forced to abandon their fire-weaving to fight. It may not be that she is not concerned with the dragon but that she dareth not provoke it."

He looked over his shoulder at Ornstein.

"Captain, if thou dost not mind, perhaps we should confer with the Witches before hunting the beast. We are traveling to Izalith first, are we not?"

The Dragonslayer grumbled in the back of his throat.

"So be it."

"Hold!" Gwyndolin said indignantly. "Are we to simply accept the Chosen Undead's madness? Is he not already hollowed or fallen to Chaos?"

"More like fallen _for _Chaos!"

Oscar groaned. Ornstein spoke again, starting to calm down.

"It is troubling, Chosen Undead. Thou speakest of wielding a warped power which even a Lord couldeth not control – and worse, linking it to all your maddened kind. Even if it has not already begun eating away at thy mind, this plan of yours risketh the whole of what the Great Lord built. Truly undying hollows, Chaos gods as mad as they are powerful: wilt thou risk these and worse?"

Lex bobbed his head to either side thoughtfully.

"Well, it's better than civilization collapsing like this at least five more times, right?"

Ornstein looked him in the eyes, hoping to find some sign of lying. At last, he sighed and turned to Gwyndolin.

"It is thy choice, Princess. We may continue to Izalith as planned, try to mount a defense here… or seek aid from the mad Duke or the Gravelord."

The god pursed his lips and played with the hem of his sleeve.

"Very well," he said, sighing. "We will seek refuge in Izalith. My loyal servants, preparest to move out! We shall make for the demon wastes with all haste once the way is cleared! Chosen Undead, I implore thee, make clear our path of the Raven's eyes!"


	53. Demon of Song

NEW LONDO RUINS

One dead giant crow later, and the group was awkwardly packed onto the elevator beneath Firelink Shrine.

"Artorias! Keep thine hand to thyself!" Ciaran hissed, all too loudly for the cramped quarters.

Sure, they had wanted to move quickly, but stuffing everyone but the giants onto the elevator at once seemed a little too much. Sif alone filled most of the chamber, so everyone was either pressed against the moving wall or the wolf's furry chest. Lex vaguely envied the giants, who had been forced to _climb_ down to the Valley of the Drakes. At last, they reached the bottom, and they tried to pull themselves free of formation. Those who could actually fit under the door were out first, with the two taller demigods stooping next, followed by the wolf twisting and squeezing through.

As soon as she was out, Sif began sniffing quickly and growled. Artorias nodded.

"You may need that ring, Chosen Undead," he said grimly. "Something is wrong."

Ciaran pointed with one of her tracers.

"Try using your eyes, dear. The seal is broken."

Much of the brackish, stagnant water that had flooded the city was gone, released into the Valley of the Drakes beyond. Both the servants of Dark and the vengeful ghosts created by its sealing were free.

"Who could have done this?" Lex whispered. "Did Velka Choose another Undead?"

"Captain," Artorias said, "permission to investigate?"

"Granted. Ensurest thou art not followed on thy return."

"I'm going with you," Lex said quickly. "If someone else is going after the Lord Souls, I just need to beat them there. And if Velka summoned another prophet, and they're going after the Four Kings first, they're going Darkwraith. Oscar can lead the others to Izalith – I need to make sure we don't hit a worst-case scenario."

Oscar nodded silently, but Artorias shook his head.

"This mayeth be a trap. 'twould be better that we don't risk an enemy getting hold of that ring, especially not a prophet who knoweth its use."

"Wouldn't Velka just get another one through some shifty method?"

The demigod knitted his eyebrows.

"I don't know how deep the Raven's treachery goeth. That 'shifty method' may be simple as lying in wait for this one. If thou thinkst it best, by all means, accompany us. Who am I to second-guess the great prophet who slew the Father of the Abyss?"

He saluted Ornstein, then quickly took off toward the sunken city with Sif at his side. Lex followed as quickly as he could on his much shorter legs, stopping only to catch his breath and collect the transient curses from the dead body in the jar. The sorcerous blue flames that lit the path were as eerie as always, but the ghosts weren't so much, Artorias hacking through the first two in a blur of motion. Lex held up one of the embalmed hands, watching disgustedly as it burned up and passed its artificial curse onto him.

"Give me a minute," he said quickly, turning around and entering a fallen covered walkway.

He stepped out of safety and onto a narrow bridge, quickly backtracking as ghosts rose up from the depths.

"Like fish in a barrel," the cleric said, smirking as he raised his sword.

The blast of sound shredded the ghosts' ethereal bodies like tissue paper, and he crossed through to the small room on the other side, where a mummified Fire Keeper lay. He put her soul in his bag and crossed back over to rejoin Artorias and Sif.

"What wast thou thinking?!" the Knight yelled as quietly as he could. "Now ourn enemies know we are here!"

"Oh. Well. Shoot."

"We will have to be all the more cautious. What does thine foresight see, prophet?"

Lex looked at the ground.

"It, uh, doesn't work like that. More of a long-term thing."

"I see. I suppose nothing wouldeth be so convenient. No matter. Even if this stench doth oppress my smell, my hearing is just as keen. Come, and prithee silence thine armor if possible."

He turned and moved toward the stairs.

"Wait a second! There's a shortcut!"

"Thou'rt like Ornstein," Artorias sighed. "Neither of you are capable of speaking quieter than a roar. Lead on, then."

The prophet headed around the stairs and hopped down onto a lintel right of the roof on which they were standing. It was a long jump down again into a watery courtyard, and he rubbed his shins from the pain. The demigod and his wolf were much more agile than a mere human, so they simply ran down the side of the building instead.

"Someone's been here ahead of us," Lex said thoughtfully, gesturing at the limp body face-down in the shallow water.

It was dressed in armor made of magic-hardened bone and dark cloth, and a blackened iron sword lay some distance away. One of the original Darkwraiths, from a time when that organization was comprised solely of corrupted knights of New Londo.

"No sign of injury," Artorias said as he examined the body casually. "It must have been magic."

Lex nodded and climbed the steps out of the courtyard. To his right was a narrow beam connected to a room apart. He squinted into the darkness, then crossed over. Inside was a chest, untouched. He looked behind it and smashed the pair of crumbling vases for fear of ambush, but seeing nothing, took the massive titanite chunk within.

"Strange," he murmured as he rejoined the Knight. "They took out the Darkwraith behind the illusory wall but didn't take the loot."

"If it ist as thou feared, the Raven may hath armed her new champion appropriately to do battle with thyself. Other treasures wouldeth just weigh them down."

Lex nodded and climbed another set of stairs to enter an open great hall. Sif's keen eyes quickly picked out more Darkwraith corpses, but there was no sign of life or unlife. Passing through the other side was more of the same: a dead Darkwraith around the corner and nothing more. In the distance, light streamed through the open gates, and the blue, horse-sized lizards outside perched absentmindedly. Directly ahead was a short, round building separated by worn bridge, with statues on either side of the fogged-off entrance.

"Fog's still there," Lex said thoughtfully. "That means the Four Kings are still kicking. The other guy's definitely been through here, but we weren't ambushed. Did they try waiting for us up top, or are they down there fighting right now?"

"In case of the latter, thou had best hurry, 'fore the bestowed shard of my Lord's soul is taken. Sif and I will hold this position."

The human shook his head.

"No need. If I win, I can head straight back to Izalith. If I lose, I wake up at Firelink and run down here again. You staying here just leaves you at risk. If you don't think you'll have any trouble with a bunch of drakes and one undead dragon, head across the bridge, down the ridge, then into the creepy cave.

Climb down until you reach the swamp, then find the giant ball of silk opposite the archtree. Preeeetty hard to miss."

"I see. Then as much as I regret being of so little help, I shall depart. I would wish thee luck, but thy foes are nothing compared to the Beast thou hast already slain."

With that, he hopped down into the lowest part of the ruined city. Sif barked apologetically at not being able to help again and followed after her master. Alone, Lex took a deep breath and looked at the fog wall as he absently changed rings. Sure enough, with a bit of experimentation he'd been able to wear four rings like in the second game, though the options from the first game left much to be desired. Havel's, Fury, Steel Protection, and now Abysswalking.

"Wait a second."

He crossed the bridge and looked closely at the statues.

"Isn't this the same statue as in the Painted World? I'm kind of confused but not really surprised that Velka was somehow involved in this. Hanser didn't seem to recognize Priscilla, though. Hm."

At last, he crossed through the fog. The usual ghost above the entrance was missing, so he edged his way along the short platform ahead and looked down at the long staircase spiraling into the Abyss.

"You know, I know that I need to hurry, but…"

He turned and began to jog down.

"I really don't want to jump and kill myself hitting one of those stupid things and then have to walk all the way back out here."

Several stories down, the stairs came to a sudden end, with only darkness below. He jumped, but there wasn't a clear falling sensation. The stairs and the small amount of light from above disappeared, and he found himself disoriented in utter blackness. At last, he felt something solid under his feet again, though when he moved, his noisy boots made no sound on the surface.

THE ABYSS

"You know, this is actually pretty creepy in person."

Not waiting for the first King to appear, he quickly activated his armor and set his sword alight. Right on schedule, the monstrous phantasm appeared in the distance. Only, instead of slowly approaching him, it was racing toward him as fast as it could fly.

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhelp!" it wailed with a voice like scraping glass.

It had nearly reached him when it stopped immediately, recoiling as if an invisible force had grabbed it by the throat. This close, his still-human face could be seen amidst the wispy tendrils of his deformed body. The King's head flung back, and he began choking, mouth gaping wide as a fountain of humanity erupted like oil from a rig. He dropped his wicked, spined sword, and began to shrivel. This was no dignified death like being slain and absorbed wholesale.

Rather, he shrank and withered until only an emaciated human in much too large robes remained. As the last soul fled from his body, he dried up like a hollow and collapsed into a pile of ash.

"Uh?"

The humanity shot through the darkness like black stars, winding around a great, gnarled staff. The white-knuckled hand that held the tree-sized catalyst bled black as the inky, toothed worm from which it emerged gnawed at it. The worm and its mate were the sleeves to a long jet cloak made of writhing shadow, the inside of which was was like a stomach lining, dripping with an acid ink that ate away at the gray phantasmal body that wore it. Atop the thing's head and covering its face was a broad-brimmed, tall hat made of fanged mouths that constantly licked their lips. After swirling about the wraith, the humanity at last poured into the mouths, causing it to grow even larger.

"Hhhhhhhey, kid!" it whispered like a hurricane.

It vanished in a whirl of darkness, only to appear behind him.

"Thhhhhhhat's some wwwwwwwonderful hhhhhhhumanity you're carrying! I can ffffffffeel it! Give it hhhhhhhhhhere, and I won't drain you dry!"

Lex whirled around and swung, his sword's Chaos flame sparking with the density of humanity in the Abyss. The creature flitted away, hissing at the light.

"I thhhhhhought we were fffffffriends, kid!"

"Oh god."

The humanity specter laughed Beatrice's high, mocking laugh.

"I'm sorry Gwyndolin killed you, but you need to stay dead instead of becoming a Deathlord or a hungry ghost or whatever's going on here."

"I don't thhhhhhink so. Shhhhhitty prophhhhhhhhet, you said I would die hhhhhhhere. The gods and their fffffate can eat me. Speaking of whhhhich, give me that hhhhhumanity. I need it I need it IneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneeditIneedit!"

She shrieked like a banshee, and her free hand shone white with the power of Lifedrain as she reached for him. He rolled under the swing and hacked through her wispy body, but it was like cutting air. Only the Chaos flame had any effect, hungrily spreading up her body like paper aflame. The wraith tore off the top layer of ectoplasm and vanished into the infinite Dark.

"Hhhhhow cruel! Howcruelcruelcruelcruelcruelcruel!" Beatrice giggled. "So you're only fffffriendly with monsters if you intend on boning thhhhem. Good to know!"

"Beatrice, you are legitimately insane right now. I don't really want to kill you, but I will definitely beat the crap out of you if you keep this up. Also because I don't have any homeward bones."

Suddenly, she appeared again and strafed past him, unleashing a string of Dark beads. Lex rolled into the stream as the orbs zipped toward him, ducking under one and running to his feet as the droplets burst behind him. He hardly had time to turn around as Beatrice waved her staff around her head and spun a massive ball of weighty Dark at him. It arced through the air like a stone from a catapult, and he was forced to break into a dead sprint to get out of its massive blast radius. He drew in close and hacked away at her ghostly gown before she vanished again.

This time, she couldn't get away. She couldn't maintain her apparent invisibility for long, and the Chaos flame eating at her robes gave away her position. She took pot shots with heavy orbs of Dark as she tried to bat out the fire. The cleric weaved through the blasts and chased after her, but as he neared, she abandoned her efforts at extinguishing herself to reach for him again. With the brilliant glow of Lifedrain easily recognizable, he was able to quickly jump back out of the way.

Yet as he did so, his bag tugged forward of its own will, trying to break free or to drag him into the attack. He slapped it with his free hand as he ducked under the massive witch's arm and ran his blade up her side. She screamed again, and the Abyss reacted to her pain, twisting space so that the next attack ran sidelong. Howling, she tore away her burning flesh and grew it anew before vanishing into the void once more.

"I'm not going to lie. That was pretty metal. But if you'd just give me that soul shard you got from the Four Kings, I'll be on my way."

"And whhhhhat would you do with it?" her voice echoed from every direction. "If thhhhhhis is Dark, if thhhhis is our true nature, then let the Dark ffffffall!"

The space began to contort again, and the Abyss itself lashed out as black tendrils. Lex ducked one way, then the other, as he hacked his way through the silent Dark. There was no roar of energy nor moan of pain. Now that the witch's voice had faded away, all was quiet. Even his attacks made no noise as they cut through the living ink, save the jingling of the rings along the back of the blade.

At last, he heard something, a faint rush of air high above. He hazarded a glance upward, only to find the Dark sorcerer conjuring up an immense orb of power. Though he wasn't sure how far he could run in the pitch blackness, he doubted he could escape the blast. Quickly, he reached for his talisman and hurled a lightning spear with all his might. Yet as the divine energy reached the monster, it crackled and dispersed.

"_Yo, Quelaag?_"

Her response was quick but pleasant, "_Husband. I did not expect to hear from you so soon._"

"_Quick question. If I'm about to get blasted with a deathball the likes of which would destroy Namek, how do I avoid dying? Like, the caster is waaaay too high for me to hit or immune to lightning or something, and I don't think I can hide or get out of the way or anything. Should I duck and cover like a Cold War nuclear drill or what? I don't want to have to walk all the way back down here._"

Quelaag sighed exasperatedly.

"_What is the purpose of your sonic spells if they don't reach as far as they can be heard?_"

"_Attention-whoring._"

"_I don't know why I expected better of you,_" she groaned. "_Have you tried the song that gatecrashing skeleton gave you? You are fighting those human Kings who fell to Dark, are you not?_"

"_Huh_," Lex thought flatly. "_I figured that'd be a Nito thing, but sure, I can try. It kept Nashandra out of the Shrine of Awful, I think_."

He raised his talisman to his mouth like a microphone and began singing. His armor, attuned to his spiritual power, vibrated along with his voice, causing his tone-deaf screeching to fill the void.

"_Oh, why?!_" Quelaag moaned. "_Why are you still transmitting? You're supposed to be killing them; not me! When this end of the world business is over, I'm giving you singing lessons. For now, try to follow my voice._"

She began to sing slowly and clearly, remembering the song from the sole reading earlier.

"_Wait a minute. I wonder…_"

He felt the ring through his talisman and concentrated. There was a bit of static for a moment, then silence. Far above, Beatrice moved to drop the massive orb of Darkness.

"Okay, go! Gogogo!"

His wife's voice pierced the soundless Abyss. He felt a wave of calmness pass over him, and the Dark-fueled Chaos flame of his weapon quieted to a dull glow. Beatrice shook her head and dropped the bomb. Lex took a nervous breath, then began to sing along as best he could. He raised his sword, jingling the rings as he wound it in a circle.

The malice binding the Darkness peeled away, and the attack ruptured in midair, crashing upon the cleric not as a deadly explosion but as a mighty wave, washing him away. He struggled to the surface of the liquid Dark, coughing and sputtering as Quelaag's voice continued to resound from his armor.

"Dammit, kid, whhhhhhhat are you-?!" Beatrice hissed weakly.

She shook her head again, rubbing at her face with the back of her free hand.

"What…?" she said, her voice clearing as the Dark in her fell into slumber. "You can't! I won't give it up! I won't… My power… my power… is… maximum…"

Though she was still deformed by the soul of the Kings, her body had mostly solidified and shrunk to its natural size. She waved her old wooden staff to conjure up the Dark, but it could no longer hear her. Groggily, she managed to unleash a soul spear from her own power, but the cleric had no issues dodging such a slow and telegraphed attack.

"Fu… you…"

She swung at his head with the staff itself but fell over in a heap without it to support her. Lex yawned as the humanity within him fell asleep as well.

"Heeeeey," he yawned again, "Quelaag. Do we have a… a jail? Or a prison or something? Turns out the Four Kings got cannibalized by a fri… let's go with acquaintance. Anyway, she's crazy and mostly intangible and stuff, but I don't want to kill her if I can help it because this is indirectly my fault."

"We do not. Such a thing should not yet be necessary. Still, against my better judgment, bring her here. If need be, we can let Mother have her."

"Great, great. Thanks. Oh, and Quelaag? I have rediscovered sleep. Let's see if we can get this stuff to work on you and then actually use those beds for their intended purpose."


	54. This meme is now 10 years old

FIRELINK SHRINE

The immediate issue Lex faced was how to sneak the corrupted Beatrice past the Four Knights, who would understandably be less merciful to a creature of Darkness. Ultimately, they decided to warp her to the sewer exit at the base of Blighttown. There, Quelana could sneak out and seal her in a place where she didn't pose an immediate danger to everyone in New Izalith. That done, he could simply walk in through the front gate without suspicion. After a quick nap, it would be right back to work.

It was far too soon that he found himself again at Firelink, alone this time. Wilhelm had been too shocked to say anything before, when a veritable parade of legends had passed him by, but now he quickly tossed his playing cards to the ground and chased after the prophet.

"Now what was that all about?" the crestfallen warrior asked, bewildered. "The rest were hard to tell, but I can recognize the Dragonslayer Captain, even if he's got a different coat of paint!"

"Well, I wasn't there to see it, but apparently, Raven-Haired Velka went and overthrew the Dark Sun, so the Four Knights and their blacksmith escorted him out of Anor Londo."

"You mean to tell me the gods haven't forsaken this wretched land?"

"Well, one didn't. Technically, only Gwyndolin and Velka are gods. Which is confusing, because Ornstein explicitly meets the established criteria. I must be missing something."

"The Four-?! That one who was missing an arm? I looked upon the face of the Abysswalker?"

Wilhelm's voice was shaking with awe. Lex sighed.

"Man, we really need to get you downstairs. I mean, I'm guessing that Oscar filled you in, but I'm married to a primordial demon witch, so this is just kind of ordinary at this point."

"Well, forgive me for trying to hold onto the last vestiges of a normal life in this land of nightmares," the warrior cracked.

Lex was surprised he had the energy for sass and simply shrugged.

"Nah, it's cool. We need someone to keep Anastacia company, after all. Now that Quelaav is up and walking around, we're trying to see how far away from her fire a Keeper can get. We just need to get a hacksaw or something to get her out of that cell. You could go back to sitting in your old spot."

"I'd like that," Wilhelm sighed. "It's nice to have company, but sitting on the grass in armor is no fun at all, and I'm not about to take it off when maniacs like that murderer could show up at any time."

"Fair enough. I'll see if Andre or Vamos can get something done when I head back. Well, I've got to clear out the Catacombs, so I'll be seeing you, then."

The warrior nodded, so Lex headed up into the chapel. Frampt, well and wide awake as he was fond of saying, was surprised to see him.

"Chosen Undead! I heard the Bell and thought you had fallen. I am pleased to see you well."

"Oh, yeah, we were just using the Bell as a we- well, a thing," the cleric said quickly, remembering that Frampt might have been on Velka's side and not wanting to give away how involved with Izalith he was. "But yeah, I already went ho- well, I don't think you'll have to worry about me dying. I'm pretty motivated, and crippling injuries aren't as traumatizing anymore. Anyway, I'm off to face the Gravelord. I'll get back to you when I've got all four Lord Soul scraps."

"As you wish," Frampt said plainly. "I shall await your return."

Lex nodded and headed past the Serpent and up the stairs toward the graveyard. He headed back down the next flight and moved through the graveyard quickly, taking long, measured steps and staying just ahead of the slowly-reassembling skeletons. Soon enough, he'd descended to a cave, a pair of pillars and bricked walls marking the beginning to the domain of the dead.

THE CATACOMBS

A skeleton wielding a scimitar and shield ran up at Lex, but he promptly hacked through it and continued power walking through. Glowing pink shrunken heads floated through the air toward him, but he moved just fast enough that they couldn't catch up. Another skeleton waited for him at the bottom of the stairs, but as it brandished its sword and glared menacingly with its sorcerous eyes of blue flame, he walked right past it. Through the doorway, the path ended abruptly, but even still, he continued, landing on a pile of bones and armor, the remains of previous intruders. Without a care in the world, he slid down the bodies and continued past a pair of well-worn statues to the left.

"Put your elbow up tight! Take a step with the right! Tilt your head to the side! Smile real, real wide! Leo Strut!"

Going through the passage, he quickly veered left again, passing through a hole in the wall. At last, he ended his leisurely pace and sprinted down the ramp, toward the far side of the cave. Seeing a skeleton, he began to swing but quickly stopped himself when he noticed what it was wearing. The half-hollowed necromancer in ratty robes he had expected was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the suit-wearing skeleton from the wedding was seated next to the bonfire, playing a pleasant melody on a xylophone made of bones.

"Ah, Chosen Undead! I had hoped you would find this passage before moving on. I did so wish to apologize again for disrupting the festivities on your happy day. I take it you're having no problems with the married life? I never was much interested in it for myself, but I very much enjoy watching the dynamic between all the various relations."

Lex stared blankly for a moment before he could change gears from "kill" to "talk."

"Uh… yeah. It's great. We figured out that we could use your song to actually sleep instead of just running around as tireless immortals, so that was nice. Plenty of cuddling. And we used it against, uh, well, the person who absorbed the Four Kings' soul shard."

"Interesting! I had suspected it may have an effect on Dark as well as Death, but I could not say for certain. How fortuitous! Ah, but I won't keep you! You have better things to do than listen to an old bag of bones rattle on, but I must admonish you for one failing.

You may have seen, but in case you hadn't: the main door has already been unsealed. From what I have learned, this was done by the Knight of Thorns on your behalf. That was a terrible mistake, you must know. Dear Leeroy has had to work harder than ever to keep the monsters within from escaping."

"Oh. My bad. I didn't even realize. I'm so used to rushing to kill the necromancer in here that I forgot there was even a door."

"'Used to,' you say? An interesting turn of phrase for a prophet, but I'll not dig. Still, can I entrust the elimination of that deicidal abomination to you? If you slay the master, I ought to be able to clean up any of his useless apprentices you miss."

"Too easy."

"Splendid. Allow me walk you in. I shall hold the gate whilst you make your attempt. Keep your eyes open as you descend – Leeroy's summon sign ought to be around somewhere."

The cleric nodded, then shook his leg to relieve a minor tickle. As he looked down, he noticed a stream of bugs crawling about his feet, some of which had begun to climb up onto him.

"Oh gods, it's worse than Izalith! It's worse than that one camping trip!"

He quickly tried to shake them off, hopping on one foot then the other while the skeleton chuckled to himself. Eventually, Lex got them all off and attuned to the bonfire before following his strange companion back out of the cave. While the cleric took extra effort to avoid stepping into the ever-present swarms, the skeleton paid them no heed, and they in turn went right past his dry bones.

"Don't mind them. They're a vital part of the ecosystem here, a sad necessity in these times. In years long past, the bodies interred here were respected and allowed to deteriorate in silence. As the Fire died, graverobbers inevitably came – and were slain by the traps as they deserved. Yet as the corpses piled up, they attracted these delightful creatures.

Quite harmless to the living – and the Undead, though I suspect you would not enjoy watching them feast upon corpses. No, what's truly disgusting is the presence of those so-called necromancers. They do not respect Death nor the dead – it is Life they seek, the art of resurrection, as if it could be found here."

As they exited the cave, two skeletons began to assemble themselves. Lex hacked through one easily enough, using the weight of the weapon more than the blade. The well-dressed skeleton had a more appropriate weapon in the form of his cane, and he simply smashed the skull of the other one with the top. He leaned on it and gestured to the open passage ahead, statues lining the walls.

"I do wish you luck, my boy. I shall catch up when I can. You don't want this leg of mine slowing you down."

"Sure, thanks," Lex said awkwardly. "Um. Who were you, again?"

"Ah, I did neglect to introduce myself, so caught up as I've been in the matters at hand – both here and at your reception. You may call me Antony. I am one of the many dead interred here. I was acquainted with Vamos during his stay, though I must admit I invited myself."

"Oh, no, that's fine, I guess. At this point, we're kind of collecting every sane person in Lordran, so it's not that big a deal if someone new shows up."

"An admirable philosophy! But don't let me talk you to death. Go on and give those necromancers what for!"

With that, the cleric nodded and headed into the sealed inner catacombs, glancing over his shoulder once just to make sure this wasn't a Maldron the Assassin situation. Beyond was a massive cavern of spiraling ramps crossed with impassable bridges. He looked to the cave opposite the entrance, but the necromancer was again missing as a result of Kirk's passage. As he walked further in, a skeleton began rolling toward him like a bladed wheel, though the sight was itself rather ridiculous. He easily sidestepped and hacked the creature in two.

Down the same ramp, two more charged him, but they were likewise dispatched with ease. Their necromancer already dead, the main danger posed by the skeletons was gone. The cleric started toward the bridge connecting to the next cave but paused, instead looking down. He took a deep breath on seeing the distance, but there was a broken bridge below that just barely stretched beneath him. Lex swallowed and slowly let himself down the ledge.

He swore as he dropped himself and rolled forward, toward a wall. Behind him, one of the bizarre floating heads exploded, showering him with the razor-sharp remains of a skeleton. The pain from the combination of lacerations and probably-broken legs was unbearable, but the cleric bit his lip and quickly cast a healing spell. After shaking off the bizarre feeling of the sudden lack of agony, he approached the ledge again and dropped off onto an even lower platform. Here, there was a clump of souls on the desiccated corpse of a hollow and the white summon sign of the Undead Paladin Leeroy.

Lex traced the mark while healing his aching legs again. The paladin rose from the ground, the white glow of his phantom body making the gold and ivory of his armor all the more brilliant. Polished brass plates with reliefs depicting the saints of Thorolund made up the bulk of his holy armor, draped with skirts of white silk tattered by years of adventuring yet somehow kept clean. In one hand, he held the holy shield Sanctus, and in the other, the holy greathammer Grant.

"Hail, Prophet!" he shouted in Lex's face. "I had hoped you would join me in this fight!"

"So this is what it's like being famous," the cleric mumbled.

"Speak up, brother!"

"Uh, there's actually a party from Thorolund up ahead. For some reason, they couldn't find the Rite of Kindling on Pinwheel, so they went further in. Obviously, this was a bad idea, but to make matters worse, they either have or are about to stumble upon 'Trusty Patches,' who has a deep-seated hatred of clerics. Two of the four will hollow, and a third will desert, leaving the princess alone in there."

"House Thorolund itself is falling Undead? We really are running out of time! Come on, brother, there's no time to waste! For Thorolund!"

Before Lex could say anything else, the paladin charged off the platform and into a darkened crevasse. The prophet followed as quickly as he could, skeletons affixed to spiked wheels nipping at his heels by the time he rushed through the fog gate. On the other side was an utterly enormous coffin, easily large enough for the illusory Gwynevere. Its lid was open, and a splash echoed from within.

"Who dares-?" a choking voice hissed.

"LEEROY OF THOROLUND!"

There was a sound of bones snapping like twigs, and the fog faded without Lex ever having truly entered the boss arena. He sighed and hopped down into the coffin before the bonewheels noticed the fog was gone. The phantom paladin had already gone, but the leering Mask of the Father lay face-down at the end of the pool in the middle. The entire far end of the coffin was filled with books, tools of butchery, and hanging skeletons with their hands and feet cut off.

"Aaaand no chance for interrogation. Crap. Well, hopefully, Leeroy will be fast enough to save Vince and Nico, but they've probably been dead for a while now, haven't they?"

He sighed and put the mask in his bag before heading over to the ladder. Beyond the coffin was an utter darkness that, strangely, was even purer than the Abyss. The Abyss was like looking at black on a computer screen – it was still actually light. This was the darkness of a cloudy, moonless night in the countryside. A trail of prism stones led into the distance, but their glow was washed away in the inky blackness.

TOMB OF THE GIANTS

He walked to one, then the next, watching his feet carefully. A demigod-sized coffin continued the path before him, the third prism stone on its far end. Passing it, he looked to the next, seeing the cold glare of sorcerous fire near it – another skeleton hidden in the darkness. As he edged toward it, he stumbled and looked down. At his feet was wooden dinnerware and the ashes of an actual campfire, with real wood instead of a magical sword. A few paces ahead, he found something unexpected.

"Rope! After all this time, rope!"

Though it hadn't been a usable item in the game so much as an environmental decoration, he gleefully put the heavy coil into his bag before continuing. As he took his first steps down the slope toward the next stone, the skeleton leapt at him. He rolled the way he had come and lurched forward as he rose, hacking at its side. This one was much larger, the size that would be interred in the coffin he had crossed over, though like the human-sized ones, it wielded a curved sword rather than a straight sword as would a demigod. It chattered at him and held the end of its blade to chop at him like a guillotine, but he spun and cut again, this time scattering the bones.

Carefully, he continued to the prism stone and turned in search of the next. It was still further down, though he was treated to an amazing view. The cavern wall ahead had crumbled, and the red light of Izalith made a frail attempt at encroaching on the blackness. By the time he had reached the stone, he could clearly make out the massive dome of the Witch's palace. If he lay down on the stone to angle past the rocks, he could even see the side of the new…Chaos Sen's Fortress? He shuddered.

"Hey Quelaag?"

"_Yes, dearest?_" she said absently, apparently busy.

"I can see our house from here."

There was that usual pause where she sighed and the ring failed to pick it up.

"_That's nice, dear._"

"Hey. This is the Tomb of Giants. Not the sar-Chasm of the Abyss."

"_Please stop talking._"

"You know you love it!"

There was no further response, possibly because Quelaag decided to groan for the next half hour, so Lex stood up and continued on his way. He climbed atop an angled coffin to his left and slid down its length to the next stone, which was at the base of another such coffin. Instead of continuing, he turned right and rolled past the flailing of another huge skeleton, grabbing a soul clump from a corpse before hopping down to a short ridge. He jumped down again, sliding on the side of a coffin, then stepped off quickly to grab a humanity off another corpse on a ledge. Stuffing the two souls into his bag, he hopped down, slid down a rope ladder, and used the bonfire to warp back down to Izalith.


	55. Synonym-for-stone dragon

ASH LAKE

"Left. Lefter. Lefter!"

After reaching what was definitely not a wasteland overrun with demons, the Dark Sun and his attendants had been greeted by the Daughters of Chaos in an elaborate throne room. For once, Quelara was appropriately dignified as she officially accepted them as refugees. Ultimately, she agreed to give Gwyndolin a tour of the facilities, accompanied by Ornstein for safety. Gough went with Quelana and the giant blacksmith to help him set up his forge. With Quelaav returning to her bonfire, this left Artorias, Ciaran, and Sif with Quelaag.

She and Artorias bickered for a while over whether his defeat at the hands of Manus counted as losing their wager, but when the Chosen Undead arrived, she too retired. Once Ornstein and Gough returned they set out again immediately. Descending the hollow of the archtree had been a simple matter – the agile demigods and wolf leapt from limb to limb and the giant simply climbed down, his body large enough to span what would be fatal falls for smaller creatures. The basilisks along the way were easy prey, and though the mushroom folk were of a different brood than those of the Forest, they recognized warning signs Artorias had learned to keep them away. The lower world was much as they remembered it, gray and unchanging.

The ferocious black hydra had been a surprise. Still, as unsubtle as its approach was, it was easy prey. Gough had already blasted off two of its heads before even nimble Ornstein had reached it, his pace slowed by the shifting ash of the beach. By the time Artorias, Sif, and Ciaran had caught up, it was on its last legs. They slew it and continued on their way, crushing the occasional maneater shells like nuts.

As they approached the end of the sandbar, they had slowed to a stop to take in their surroundings. Ahead was one of the largest archtrees they'd seen, growing from the shattered stump of another. The path led through the hollow stone-wood. Seeing through to the other side was impossible, so it would be difficult to plan a surprise attack. Artorias had suggested simply charging in, but Ornstein insisted the blind Gough do what reconnaissance he could.

Now perched atop the shattered stump of the archtree, he listened carefully to the ancient dragon in the hollow below. It was difficult to get a good read. Unlike Kalameet before, this dragon retained its stone scales and so was neither alive nor dead. It did not breathe, though fortunately, it moved about slightly in its nest. Fortunately, Hawkeye Gough had acquired a spotter since last time.

"Fire at will, Uncle Gough!"

Though the giant crouched atop the ruined archtree, it was the little girl seated atop the giant's head that had the highest perspective. She was dressed all in blue and had keen blue eyes that had no trouble peering down into the dimly-lit hollow. Her long platinum blond hair was tied in a braid that hung over one shoulder, and a pair of wooden swords hung on her back.

"Patience, little one," Gough chided gently. "Study thy foe carefully. Dost thou see any weakness or strength, which may be used against it or against us?"

"It hath an itty-bitty head! One of its horns art broken. And it's fuzzy! So fuzzy!"

"Perhaps we should have insisted the witches accompany us. It might have proven vulnerable to fire, once stripped of its scales. Ah, such is hindsight. No matter – givest the signal, then strappest thyself in."

"Right away, Uncle Gough!"

The girl climbed down the back of his helmet and drew a large, yellow-topped firebomb from one of his belt pouches. She lifted the explosive, large as her head, with both hands and threw it with all her might before scampering back up and buckling herself into a harness that dangled around the giant's neck. As the firebomb reached the top of its arc, it burst into an overbearing display of noise and light, and four tiny figures below rushed into the stump. The stone dragon turned its head slowly, deliberately, toward the noise – unable to see the flash of light inside. A moment later, and there was a second flash.

Ornstein kicked away from the dragon, spraying dust and gravel in all directions as he withdrew his sparking spear from its chest. It rose, a hulking thing of at least twice the bulk of lean Kalameet. Slow but sturdy, it seemed unfazed by even such a vital blow as it rolled its head back and unleashed a torrent of white vapor that was neither flame nor soul magic. The Lion quickly leapt out of the way as the Wolf and his wolf stepped in and caught the dragon's attention. It followed Artorias across the small island and up the wall, but the unliving thing's movements were simply too dull to catch him.

"Why dost thou not shoot, Uncle Gough?" the girl asked, kicking her dangling legs out of boredom.

"Rememberest thy mother's lessons on the ancient dragons?" the giant began, a little tense from the sounds of combat below. "Lord Gwyn's lightning is needed to peel their invincible stone scales. Long ago, we all had a fraction of that power, but these days, only Captain Ornstein doth retain it."

"So everyone else has to wait for Uncle Ornstein to do his buzz-buzz-pchoo thing?"

Beneath his helmet, the giant smirked.

"Yes, but I doubt 'Uncle Ornstein' wouldeth appreciate thee calling it that."

Below, Ornstein was indeed charging a mighty bolt along his spear as Artorias distracted the dragon by hacking at its left arm. It swatted at the demigod and tried to grab him with its other arm, but he hopped on top of it and charged into the beast's neck. It turned its head slowly, inhaling deeply. As the Wolf leapt away, it stopped suddenly, giving Sif the opportunity to climb the other side and hack at the back of its head. It shifted its weight and raised one claw to ward against the great grey wolf's attacks.

"_HOLDEST,_" it thought calmly, its mind-voice heavy as stone. "_DOTH MINE EYES DECEIVE?_"

The Knights tensed, though Sif and the girl, being younger, didn't know why. In their stone forms, dragons were not alive and were incapable of such things as speech or thought. Only being stripped of their scales and exposed to Flame gave them identity and true consciousness. Ornstein's first attack may have exposed it slightly, but it still retained its original form and should not have awakened so quickly.

"THOU SEEST TRUE!" Ornstein roared. "GWYN'S DRAGONSLAYER IS THY BANE!"

He unleashed the charged bolt, but the dragon was ready. It quickly drew something out of its nest and blocked the attack, though some scales on the defending arm were blown away by the runover. Between two mighty claws, it held a massive slab of stone that looked tiny by comparison.

"_HOLDEST, I SAID, ORNSTEIN. HONESTLY, YOUNGSTERS THESE DAYS. ARTORIAS, WHAT FOOL THING WAST THOU DOING THAT THOU DISAPPEARED FOR CENTURIES? I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE THOU LOST THINE ARM CHARGING IN BLINDLY._"

"What madness is this?" Ornstein growled.

"_FOR WHAT PURPOSE DID ANOR LONDO CHOOSETH TO SHEPHERD THE HUMANS? SENDING AN UNDEAD SPY WOULD HAVE TOLDETH THEE SOMETHING WAS AMISS. CANNETH A DRAGON SERVE AS FIRE KEEPER? SITTEST, AND SEEST MY FLAME IS KINDLED. THIS UTTER LACK OF INTELLIGENCE IS HOW THAT UNGRATEFUL, WRETCHED DRAGON RANNETH RAMPANT, DOING WHATSOEVER PLEASED HIM. HE AND THAT DAMNABLE BIRD._"

"Holdest on…" Artorias murmured. "Captain! I know that voice! It's the god of cranky old men!"

The dragon suddenly attacked again. Artorias flipped over the swing, and Ornstein started to loose his bolt.

"Stoppest! Ornstein, dost thou not recognize him?"

"I recognize a dragon."

"Gettest the dragonslayer spear out of thine ass. How farest thee, Havel?"

The stone dragon crossed its arms.

"_I WOULD BE BETTER WERE I NOT CONSIGNED TO THIS WICKED FORM. I DID NOT RECOGNIZE YOU EITHER, A RIGHT-HANDED ARTORIAS AND A BLACKENED ORNSTEIN. MUCH HATH OCCURRED SINCE WE LAST SPAKE, IT SEEMETH._"

"I'll say!" Artorias said, confused. "Weren't Fire Keepers necessarily female?"

"_THE CAPACITY FOR REPRODUCTION IS WHAT WAS REQUIREDETH, TO PROVIDETH VESSELS FOR THE HUMANITY THAT THE KEEPER IS NOT OVERWHELMED. THIS STONE BODY, WRETCHED THOUGH IT MAY BE, IS PROOF AGAINST THE DARK._"

"That would hath been convenient," Artorias sighed. "Mine arm was lost to the Beast of the Abyss when I journeyed to Oolacile. My mind, too, would have been lost had it not been for Quelaag."

"_DIDETH NOT THE WITCH-DAUGHTERS PERISH OR BECOMETH DEMON?_"

This time Ornstein spoke, "They dideth. A further detail was kepteth secret among the Knights, the Lord, and the fallen one. Those Daughters who survived did retaineth their minds, but it was safer for all that none kneweth. I beg thine forgiveness, Bishop Havel."

"_SAVE THY WORDS, KNIGHT-CAPTAIN. THINE ARMOR AND PRESENCE HERE TELLETH ME MUCH OF THY SITUATION. I MUST PRESUME THE LORD'S KEEP HATH FALLEN._"

"It ist as thou sayst. The Raven-Haired Witch hath risen in open rebellion at last. We dared not risketh the Princess' life against an army of Undead phantoms and sought refuge where her crows might not followeth. There, we heard tell of an ancient dragon that yet lived. Even with need for discretion, a dragon was too dangerous to letteth live."

"_YET I SUSPECT THAT SO-CALLED 'DUKE' WATCHETH OVER OUR FALLEN CITY WITH GLEE, SAFE IN ITS 'HOUSE ARREST,' IF THE RAVEN HATH NOT ALREADY GATHERED THE STRENGTH TO FREE IT._"

"We are fortunate. Those two felleth out some time after thy framing and 'imprisonment.'"

"_THAT IS EXCELLENT TO HEARETH. FOR THAT MATTER, HOW FARETH MY DOUBLE?_"

"I have not had the opportunity to check. I shall ask the Prophet when the opportunity presents itself. The most recent Undead chosen to fulfilleth that Prophecy possesseth a true gift of foresight, and he hath undone much of the Raven's machinations."

"_LET US WAIT NOT!_" the Havel-dragon cackled with a laugh like grinding stone. "_THE RAVEN CANNOT HARMETH THIS FOUL BODY OF MINE! LET US LAY HER HEAD UPON HERN OWN BLOCK!_"

The four enormous wings on its back began to flutter, creating a whirlwind of ash. Sif sneezed.

"Holdest!" Ornstein said quickly, waving his spear to attract attention. "The traitor cannot harmeth thee, but her Undead from countless worlds may bringeth to bear the spears of the fallen!"

The dragon growled audibly instead of using telepathy.

"_TRAITORS TO HIS COVENANT,_" Havel thought at last. "_WE SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED NOTHING LESS. TWO CAN PLAYETH THIS GAME. I WILL GATHER MINE OWN ADHERENTS. I CAN CALL THOSE WHO SEEKETH THIS PATH WILLINGLY NOTHING LESS THAN MAD, BUT THEIR LUST FOR STRENGTH CAUSETH THEM SEEK BATTLE. THEY WILL FIGHTETH FOR US, AND THEY WILL BE THE FINEST ARMY IN THIS LAND SINCE THE PASSING OF OUR LORD AND HIS BLACKENED KNIGHTS._"

"I am loath to use such power," Ornstein grumbled, "but it will be an honor to fight alongside you once more, Bishop Havel."

"Same here," Artorias said, as he helped Sif brush the ash out of her coat. "Honeybee? Gough?"

"_SO THE OTHERS WERE WITH YOU AFTER ALL. HOW SHREWD, ORNSTEIN. ARTORIAS, THOU REMAINETH A TRUSTING FOOL. EVEN NOW, I COULD BE DECEIVING THEE._"

"Thou couldst not. I would smell it," Artorias said in a tone that sounded equally serious and joking.

Ornstein growled quietly before shouting, "Ciaran, Gough, present thyselves!"

A shadow dropped from the ceiling, swinging on one of the dragon's horns to slow itself before hitting the ground, bouncing, and flipping upright.

"The Lord's Blade Ciaran greeteth Bishop Havel."

Gough's descent took quite a bit more time, but he was still incredibly quick considering he was scaling the inside of a dome. At last, he dropped into the lake with a tremendous splash and pulled himself on shore.

"Greatarcher Gough greets Bishop Havel," he said bowing.

The giant realized then that he had forgotten something.

"Jacquelyn says hi, Bishop Havel! You're fluffy! Can you fly? Can I ride you?"

When Ornstein said "jump," it was a Knight's duty to ask how high. That instinctual response had led Gough to forget to hide the girl in his quiver again. Ciaran's head slowly creaked toward him, and he was all too quick to point fingers back at Artorias.

"Now listen, Honeybee, I just thought-"

"Captain Ornstein," Ciaran said, her voice ice, "might I request personal leave for myself and Knight Artorias?"

"Granted," the Dragonslayer said without hesitation.

Artorias broke into a dead sprint down the sandbar, Ciaran only a step behind. Sif just covered her face with her paws in shame.

"_TO ANSWER THY QUESTION, YES, I CAN FLY._"


	56. Bones by any other name

TOMB OF THE GIANTS

Lex returned shortly, with Oscar and Laurentius in tow. Solaire had been drawn into some strange conversation with Andre and the giant blacksmith about lightning weapons and so was left behind.

The first thing out of Lex's mouth when they arrived, however, was, "Wait here."

He climbed back up the ladder and followed the left wall until it opened up. Though hard to see in the darkness, a man in black leathers stood idly near a ledge. He carried a poleaxe and a tower shield, and in a land of weirdos and mutants, his only distinguishing features were his bald head and large hooked nose.

"Good day!" he said in a voice he probably thought was charming. "You look reasonably sane! What are you doing in the Catacombs? Are you a cleric or something?"

"Oh, not just a cleric, my friend!" Lex said, strangely peppy. "I'm the prophet of Slaanesh! Why, you're the first person who hasn't recognized me!"

"A prophet, really?" the man replied, his mood having taken a dip. "Aren't I blessed? Well, here's a tip. There's a stash of treasure right down that hole. I found it first, but… well, you're the _prophet_, right?"

His voice lingered on the "prophet" with an obvious hatred, but Lex paid no mind.

"I owe you for all that, er, praying and whatnot… I'll give you first pick. Well, go on, have a look. It'll shimmer you blind."

His tone had recovered by the end of it, but he had apparently learned his laughter from the same school as Lautrec, because it couldn't be taken for anything but evil. Lex walked ahead a little, toward a prism stone placed at the end of an outcropping.

"I'm terribly sorry," the cleric said apologetically. "I'm actually quite nearsighted. Could you perhaps point me in the right direction?"

The other man shook his head and approached, pointing.

"There, that hole. Take a closer-"

Lex stuck out his foot and pushed. The man fell head over heels over the ledge and into the dark pit below.

"This is what I do, my friend!" the prophet yelled. "The look on your face; that's the real treasure!"

"You damn clerics, you're worse than maggots!

Lex snickered as he headed back to the ladder.

"Okay, guys, I'm done being an asshole. Let's go make sure Rhea's safe. Honestly, I got the impression that Vince and Nico protect her even after they hollow, but we can't count on that."

Oscar sighed, but he and Laurentius headed up the ladder. At the top, the pyromancer summoned his light, and the pair followed Lex up a narrow path. He stopped when he reached a skull that would have been nearly as tall as he was if it wasn't broken. There, he turned to the wall and slipped through a large crevice. On the other side was a relatively new-looking wooden ladder.

It led down quite a distance, and at the bottom was a horrifying tower of bones, held together with rotten human meat.

"Oh gods, that's just as gross as I imagined."

Lex hacked at it once, then jumped out of the way as it tried to deliberately fall on top of him. Oscar jumped from the ladder and crushed it under the weight of his Black Knight sword, sending bits of bone and gore splattering across the passage. The prophet gagged and wiped some off his cheek. Once Laurentius had reached the bottom, they could see two more approaching by gyrating their bases.

"Tomb of Giants hula hoop championship right here," Lex said, trying to distract himself from the need to vomit. "Oscar, we'll rush them together. One hit from each of us should finish them off before they can counterattack."

The knight nodded, and they charged the first one, Lex swinging high and Oscar swinging low. The pillar fell backwards, so they moved on, hacking through the next. Laurentius dutifully followed, illuminating more of the passage as he walked. They didn't encounter any more enemies as the path narrowed and curved around, but voices echoed from beyond.

"Let go of me, you rotten cleric! I've done nothing wrong!"

"Mnnn."

"Oh yeah, well how do you like this?"

"Mnnn!"

"Ow ow ow ow! Okay, I've learned my lesson! Just… let… me… Hrk!"

"Nico, you'll crush his ribs!"

"Mnnn?"

"Yes, that's a bad thing! Look, you're scaring Rhea!"

As the passage opened into a wide chamber, the light shone on a pair of armored clerics, one of which was crushing the hook-nosed scoundrel with a bear hug. A white-robed priestess stood off to one side, wincing at the yelps coming from the prisoner. The cleric who still had both hands free turned when he saw the light and moved defensively in front of his companions, holding a flanged mace and kite shield.

"Hold! Who goes there?"

Unlike his partner, he had forgone the usual chain coif, so the group could tell he was a young man with short dirty blond hair.

"Hail, Vince of Thorolund!" Lex said back. "I am Lex of Izalith, the prophet of Slaanesh. These are my companions, Oscar of Astora and Laurentius, also of Izalith."

"Izalith?" the cleric hissed, recoiling. "What sort of madmen…?"

"But he is the prophet the Paladin spoke of," the priestess said hopefully. "Please forgive Vince's rudeness. This journey has been a great test of faith for us. I am Rhea, of House Thorolund, and these are my escorts, Vince and Nico. I fear we would have been lost if you had not sent the legendary Paladin to us. Alas, he departed as suddenly as he arrived, and we are no closer to our goal. Could you find it in your heart to aid us once more?"

"Yeah, just one question. Did you kill the necromancer Pinwheel? Dude with six arms."

Rhea nodded faintly.

"We did. Our leader Petrus was still with us then. I fear he abandoned us as a lost cause."

"Nah. He ditched you either just because he's Petrus or because he was under orders. Possibly both. Pinwheel had the Rite of Kindling, so if you didn't find it, Petrus must have it. He probably brought you down here to die."

"That snake!" Vince seethed.

"Yeah, well, I left my world's copy of the Rite back in Pinwheel's lair, so you can probably grab it on the way out. Though you might imagine returning to Thorolund isn't the best idea now."

Rhea was crestfallen but nodded.

"Head back to Firelink and kill Petrus if you really feel like it. Whether you do or don't, take the elevator beneath down to New Londo, then the stairs back up to the Valley of Drakes. Cross the bridge to the spooky cave, then fight your way down Blighttown to the swamp. Head right toward the giant spider's nest. Don't kill the creepy egg-laden hollows."

"And where will this take us?" Vince asked, suspiciously.

"Exactly what it sounds like. The lair of a terrifying demon spider. Tell her I said hi."

"First Izalith and now this. Prophet or not, I think you're mad."

"No, I'm married. There's a slight difference. In any case, Izalith is probably the safest place in Lordran right now, but you can hang out with Wilhelm and Anastacia at Firelink if you're scared of spiders. Though Frampt is pretty scary too, so whatever, man."

Vince groaned and rolled his eyes, but Rhea nodded. Nico looked like he was enjoying using Patches as a stress ball too much to be interested in what his companions thought of the prophet.

"Thank you," the priestess said quietly. "We will consider your offer if the Firelink Shrine does not prove hospitable. Come along, Vince, Nico. We can leave our malefactor with the prophet."

"Wait just a second," Lex said quickly, raising his hand. "You were important enough to the Chosen Undead that you were granted two fates before I interrupted and sent Leeroy to save you guys. If the Chosen Undead saves you here quickly, then after much fighting, they'll return after some fighting to find you dead. Petrus is the killer."

"No!" Rhea gasped.

"Now if the Chosen Undead saves you late in his journey like I have, there's not enough time for Petrus to get antsy or whatever. Instead, one of Seath's Channelers returns to their old hunting ground in the Undead Church. It takes you back to his dungeons for some mad experiments that drive you hollow."

Between one bad end and another, Rhea looked paler than her immaculate robes.

"Don't you worry about that!" Vince snarled. "We'll protect Rhea with our lives!"

"Mnnn!"

Lex shrugged.

"Right. Just be careful.".

Nico finally dropped Patches, who groaned as he checked to make sure all his bones were still in place. The cleric party finally set off.

As they headed into the darkness, Rhea bid a polite farewell: "Vereor nox."

"Semper ubi sub ubi."

She was puzzled by the reply but followed after her companions. The other group turned to face the pathological Sparta kicker.

"Look, Patches, I don't really care what you do. I know you won't offer your services to a cleric. Just stay out of trouble or I'll feed you to my wife. You know, the giant demon spider. You've got plenty of humanity, so I suspect you'll be delicious."

The thief glared at him, then feigned gratitude.

"Oh, thank you, master cleric! You are truly merciful! A credit to the gods' benevolence, you are!"

"Just go before I kick you all the way down to Izalith."

Patches nodded briskly and ran off after the cleric group.

"What now, Lex?" Oscar asked.

"Now we wait, because that's the only way out of here, and it's always awkward when you say goodbye and then end up walking the same way anyway."

The knight groaned, but without any other guidance, they were forced to wait on Lex. Eventually, he turned them back, and they returned down the passage and up the ladder to Patches' ledge of death. They clung to the right wall as it curved around the lower level where they'd met the clerics. As it opened up to a wider platform, Laurentius' light shone upon a horrifying creature. It was like someone had mangled the skeletons of demigods into a four-legged shape, only the fanged mouth protruded like the enormous skull from before.

"What in Flame is that?!" Laurentius yelped.

"You know what? I have no idea," Lex said, shrugging. "Usually call them dogs because of the way their tailbones wag. Careful – they tend to flail around and slap you silly if you're not cautious. Oscar?"

The knight nodded and stepped forward, shield raised. The creature snarled and leaped forward, crashing facefirst into the shield. Oscar shifted with the weight of the blow and spun to hack at the back of its neck. The backstab sound played, and as he struck a second time, the skull rolled off, and the body fell to pieces.

"Great! So those are actually the hardest enemies in here. Otherwise, you've got those gore towers, falchion giant skeletons, Pinwheel clones (he was the boss necromancer), and baby skeletons – which are surprisingly dangerous but also full of humanity if you happen to be a sociopath."

"Weren't the Catacombs the resting place of kings and saints?" Laurentius asked, puzzled. "This far in, I wouldn't be surprised if we found something…strange, but babies?"

"Yeah, it looks like an entire cult died outside of the Gravelord's chamber. Don't know if it was suicide or they were killed by the necromancers. Given the Valley of Def- well, considering a similar location elsewhere, it kind of looks like the cult was sacrificing babies or something."

"Well, that's…wonderful," Laurentius sighed. "Glad I asked."

"You'll get used to it," Oscar muttered. "Lex, where next?"

"Right. Watch out for arrows coming our way. I'll go ahead and press through the fog up ahead, and then a Black Knight's going to rush us. Halberd-user."

They continued down the ledge until it narrowed. Sure enough, a fog wall was suspended between a pillar and the wall. Lex pushed through and quickly turned the corner.

"Yo mamma's so fat, Executioner Smough told her to go on a diet!"

Whether or not the Black Knight recognized the insult, it chased after the noise. Lex plowed through Oscar and Laurentius, and they had to quickly regain their footing on the narrow ledge before making their own escape. The Knight followed them to the broader ledge where they'd fought the dog creature and took a broad swing at the trio. The extra reach was moot, however, as the cleric unleashed a bass shockwave that sent it staggering backward. A swift kick from Oscar easily dispatched it, sending it tumbling into the darkness below.

"A little warning would be helpful, Lex. Seeing the future doesn't matter if you're the one doing something unexpected."

"Ah. Right. Point. This way. We'll go ahead and skip the bonfire because SPEEDRUN!"

Laurentius blinked.

"I'm sorry, but what? Why would we skip a bonfire, Master Lex? I know the last one was close by, but shouldn't we use every advantage we have?"

"It's redundant since we'd have to come back up here anyway. There's a shortcut to skip this middle section of the Tomb, and we'd have to go through part of it anyway since there's a magic ring I need."

"Oh, I see. I think. I'll trust in your judgment."

"Thanks. Let's move quickly, then. No fighting – just follow me."

Laurentius and Oscar nodded, so he headed back down. The prophet ran to the end of the platform and quickly swerved left as a dog snarled at him. An enormous archer skeleton drew its bow, but he grabbed a soul clump from a corpse at its feet and hopped off the edge of the cliff. By now, Oscar was used to Lex's nonsense and followed without hesitation, while Laurentius stopped long enough for the skeleton to gaze down at him. The eerie, sorcerous, blue eyes frightened him more than the jump, so he quickly slipped off the side of the cliff.

The trio landed on top of the petrified and shattered skeleton of what might have been an enormous version of the dog creatures. It was difficult climbing over the bones on the narrow ledge, but it soon widened into a reasonably-sized platform. In the center was a corpse, with no obvious cause of death nearby.

"Grab and go!" Lex shouted.

He ran toward the corpse and quickly scooped it up, throwing it over his shoulder as a circle of the gore towers erupted from the earth around him. He continued forward blindly, disappearing as he fell off the platform. Rolling through the assault of countless skeletal arms, Oscar and Laurentius hurried over and hopped down onto another platform. From there, Lex stuffed the body into his bag, and they hopped down and back onto the main path. A ladder extended upward from a hole in the cave floor at the bottom, and they climbed down to the final stretch of ledge.

As they passed a pillar, light returned at last. Beyond stood innumerable archtrees in a strange realm of fog. Their highest branches formed a near-impenetrable canopy, and white light streamed in from the few holes.

"And to your left, you'll see the original state of the world," Lex recited in his best tour guide voice. "Unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, archtrees and everlasting dragons."

The other two looked on in awe for a moment before continuing after the prophet, who was waiting at the entrance to a cave.

"Yo, Leeroy!" he shouted.

As they continued onward, quickly killing a crystal lizard, there was no sign of the usual invasion.

"I guess we're cool now," the cleric said, shrugging.

"When did you meet Thorolund's first Paladin?" Oscar huffed. "The next time you leave, you'll come back to tell me Rendall of Balder is furious about me killing all those knights for titanite."

"Like fifteen minutes ago. And, no, he's dead. Super-dead. Sen's Fortress. I stole his ring."

A sigh echoed in Oscar's helmet.

"So anyway, best defense up ahead is same as with Pyramid Head: a brisk walking pace. No matter how much you want to stop, just keep moving."

As he started along the path, a gore tower blocked his way, but he pressed against the wall and sidled past it. Further along the ledge, another one rose, but there was more than enough room there to simply avoid it. A third had already risen to block their path, but it retreated back underground as they approached. Just past it, another archer drew its bow, but Lex paid it no mind. Hidden behind the wall, another falchion-wielder swung down at him with both hands, but he outright ignored the attack, evading it without looking.

"Leo Strut!"

This time, Oscar ignored Lex's instructions and shoved the archer over the cliffside before spinning around to block the swordsman's next attack for Laurentius. A quick counterattack hew it in two, and he continued into the next cave.

"So, welcome to the cult…" Lex said, waving his arm ahead to showcase the enormous number of truly dead skeletons either seated crosslegged or bowed with heads to the cave floor.

"Anyway, second verse same as the first. Just keep moving."

He followed the curving path downward into the cave, descending two levels and grabbing a soul clump from a body against the ramp. He ducked behind a wall as a fireball lobbed past. A few steps behind, Laurentius was still in the line of fire. The pyromancer panicked and swatted at the orb, deflecting it and sending it to explode against the ceiling.

"How did-?!" Lex started. "You know what? I don't need to know. Spell parrying is a waste of effort anyway. The King's Mirror is a disasterpiece."

He hopped down onto a narrow ledge and sprinted toward a Pinwheel copy. His heavy sword smashed it into the wall, and he continued on ahead. Several more of them sent a barrage of fire his way, but they were all so sluggish in their casting that they failed to even hit Laurentius at the back of the line. They continued up another ramp to a second Pinwheel, but Lex didn't even bother with this one, instead continuing to a rough wooden barricade at the center of more bowing skeletons. The prophet hacked away at the brittle, rotten wood while Oscar hacked at the necromancer.

The barrier cleared, they continued into the next cavern. The path was covered with sackcloth dyed in a color lost to age, and it led to a wide hole in the floor leading to a lower room.

"You know… I think this might be a red carpet. Huh. Anyway, jumping in sucks, so Oscar, be ready to Estus. Rule number one: don't leave the entrance.

It'll get crowded with skeletons, but there's just more waiting on the far side. But actually, let me try talking to him first, because I don't think he's a bad guy in the end. And imagine the look on Velka's face."

"Understood."

"As you wish, Master Lex."

He nodded, and the trio jumped down into the cave below. Unlike the Chasm or the full Abyss, there was no cushioning Dark to halt their falling, and they landed in a large puddle with a splash.

"My leg!" Lex shouted, mimicking the voice in the Spongebob gag.

For once, it wasn't just the prophet jumping from high places as a shortcut, and Oscar and Laurentius likewise collapsed, hugging their shins. The knight quickly recovered, however, and took a swing of Estus, the healing spreading to the others automatically. As they rose, they heard feet clattering on stone and bone clattering on bone. A number of skeletons were rushing over from the other side of the room, flailing their curved swords. Something further back shuddered.

In one of the largest coffins the group had seen, something wrapped in shadow lurched forward. Before, there had been towers of bone held together with the stickiness of old blood and gore, but this was a mass in the shape of a man held together by an untainted Dark. It didn't have the white corona of a humanity sprite, nor did it turn to a sickly purple like the Father of the Abyss. There was a clattering as the Gravelord stepped out of his coffin and onto the cavern floor.

"Spooky scary skeletons send shivers down your spine! Shrieking skulls will shock your soul and seal your doom tonight! Spooky scary skeletons speak with such a screech! You'll shake and shudder in surprise when you hear these zombies shriek!"

"Really, Lex?" Oscar whispered. "That's your reaction to seeing one of the Lords?"

"We already killed Manus, remember? Father of the Abyss. Dark Lord."

"That mindless monster was the Dark Lord?"

"Kind of a disappointment compared to what the others achieved, right? It's not like it takes a whole lot of effort to _destroy_ a kingdom. I mean, Sen got at least _two_."

The cavern shuddered as the enormous skeleton slowly advanced.

"Heyo, Papa Nito, let's chat! At this point, I've messed up enough that killing you would be pointless! Not that killing is my first choice, I mean! Well, Seath is kind of a dick. And the Four Kings. And probably the Bed of Chaos. And Smough. But I never intended to kill Ornstein!"

The smaller skeletons stopped in place, but the Gravelord continued forward. Oscar and Laurentius tensed as the mass of Death hobbled forward, but Lex seemed oddly calm. Soon enough, Nito loomed over the trio. Normal skeletons' eyes glowed blue from the animating sorcery, but the Gravelord's gleamed orange-red from the light of the First Flame.

"I had wondered. So this is the choice of the Chosen. To refrain from following the path of Flame, of taking the souls of the mighty for his own. Indeed, since the Flame appeared, all efforts have been bent toward taking and harnessing its might. Others would justify their actions, uttering such grandiose platitudes as it being for the greater good.

I would not mind dying for such, if only those ones did not have greed in their hearts. Leeroy alone has been worthy in these long years, and he sought instead to fight against those rebel necromancers across the countless worlds. Even with this one liberated of their presence, he hunts them elsewhere as we speak. Still, that greed is not your fault.

You are animals, literally and inoffensively. Apes, like birds, like the Raven, are fond of shiny baubles. I cannot begrudge the four species their appetite for Flame when I, myself, have never felt the pangs of hunger or the heat of lust. But you will refuse my soul offered willingly? Methinks the old crow has made a grave mistake."

"No offense, but that's kind of been obvious for a while now."

"Yes, yes, of course. But defying her plans is one thing. It is another altogether to forgo the collection of the Great Souls. True to her name, the Raven is patient enough to wait for your end before she feasts upon your corpse. She is a scheming, skulking scavenger at heart: if you do not collect them for her, she cannot touch them."

"Eh? Why not? I mean, the Chosen Undead is just a lucky Joe Schmo. She seems to have her stuff together, considering that her plan usually works."

"It is a story as old as these bones. Far from the so-called 'civilized' nations, there are peoples who yet maintain myths not so wholly focused on Gwyn. They say the crow tried to steal fire from the sun and was burnt black. Suffice it to say that such tales are not altogether wrong. The Raven seeks proxies to hold the Souls for her: the Kings of New Londo and that mad necromancer, Pinwheel.

In time past, the Scaleless was her ally as well, though she offended him somehow, and he caused the young Princess' deformity in spite. Only Quel was wholly beyond her grasp. That Witch could never be reasoned with or manipulated, and her Daughters provided an impenetrable second line of defense. More, since her... accident, who is there that would seek to steal the power of the Mother of Demons? Mind, you will need to recover that very power.

If you pass her Soul to another bearer, then it shall remain safely out of the Raven's clutches. With the bearers of Gwyn's bequeathed shards and Quel's own, I shall gladly open the Kiln for you. It was never required nor expected that one bear all the Souls – that the Kiln could only be opened if we three were together was the Altar's intention. Only, without such enormous power hoarded within yourself, I do not know how you shall reinvigorate the failing Flame."

"Eh. I've got a few ideas. We still have a few years to experiment, don't we?"

"If we are lucky, then yes. I will leave that for you to gauge. My duty is, as ever, Death. If the Flame itself must die, then so be it. Though I must admit, I am quite fond of the way things are now, this world of tragic heroes."

"Ha. I guess that explains why the Fenito let Vendrick hang out in their basement."

"I am not familiar with these names."

"The Fenito are a species associated with you. Bluish skin, red eyes. Vendrick is the greatest of the Chosen Undead in an era far to the future. Unfortunately, he fails to realize that his wife is a fragment of the Dark Lord and had been driving his kingdom to ruin. Not willing to let her snuff out the Flame but also too in love to harm her, he created an elaborate series of defenses against her and sealed himself away until his fatigue and despair drove him hollow."

"Ah! What an interesting man he must be! Yes, I do believe any servant of mine would grant such a hero asylum."

"He does have a beard worthy of Gwyn."

"I do not understand the fascination with facial hair. The first thing that Vamos forged when the rebels disturbed his rest to serve in their dark designs? That iron beard of his."

Having fought Manus, Laurentius did an admirable job keeping his cool before the specter of Death incarnate, but it looked like he'd cast Flash Sweat at some point. Oscar, however, was completely jaded by now and relaxed his guard.

"You sure seem familiar with the Gravelord," he whispered to Lex.

"He was the skeleton that showed up at my wedding while you were gone. Isn't that right, Aaaaantonito? I was wondering why there was a talking skeleton I didn't know about, but the limp makes it pretty obvious, I guess."

"Limp?"

"My, how do you know that?" Nito hummed, intrigued. "I'm quite curious as to the nature of your powers, 'prophet.' Yes, young Oscar of Hillund. When the necromancers made their surprise attack, they took off with a great deal of my power. By eating into my Soul, they disrupted the flow of power that moves this dead body, and I lost much of the ability to move my left leg."

"I see," Oscar said, nodding. "But you know me?"

"Of course," the Gravelord chuckled. "I am intimately familiar with my aspect. I could name each of your deceased ancestors and the means of their demise so long as they were given the proper rites. I see every funeral conducted in my name, even the one you and the prophet conducted for that Fire Keeper."

"As expected of the Gravelord," the knight said, bowing.

"I know you, too, Laurentius of the Great Swamp, though you know as well as I the means by which your body was given in my name. The prophet, here, I do not know. It is possible, of course, that he came to Lordran alive, but there is no god – real or imagined – named Slaanesh. But listen to these old teeth chatter. Such questions can wait. There is a more pressing matter at hand!"

The Gravelord reached into his cloak of shadow and pulled one human skeleton away from the rest, then a giant's femur, placing them on the floor in front of the group of scimitar-wielders. The instant the massive combined skeleton let go of the bones, it stopped moving like the swordsmen had. The new skeleton swiftly assembled itself, leaning on the femur as a cane.

"Stand up straight!" Antony barked, circling around Lex and slapping his back with the femur. "Chest out, don't suck in your belly! Take a deep breath! Now, from the bottom of your lungs, 'Spooky scary skeletons send shivers down your spine!' Honestly, boy, you married into _that _family without knowing how to sing? At least Vamos can manage smithing shanties!"


	57. Lex is too old to be getting the talk

BLIGHTTOWN

Warping the restored Quelaag had caused the bonfire to hiss and spit Chaos lava. Warping the Lord of Death was a bit more dramatic. The lonely sewer bonfire shrieked and moaned as its fire burned black, and the horrid swamp water that teemed with parasitic life suddenly fell silent. The writhing darkness oozed out of the Occult flame as the skeletons of countless dead formed into a single humanoid mass. The Gravelord lifted his head as if to sniff the air.

"Disgusting. I recognize the state of the region is the fault of Anor Londo, but honestly, do hurry in cleaning this up."

"Of course, your Lordship. As soon as we're able. It's an honor to have you again, sir."

Quelara had come to meet Lex and Nito, while the other two had returned to the palace.

"The honor is mine. I apologize for my briefness at out prior meeting, but I did not wish to steal the limelight at another's wedding."

Lex quirked an eyebrow.

"You knew that was Nito, and you didn't stop Quelaag?"

Quelara violently coughed a bit of lava into a gold-hemmed black handkerchief.

"Mother has been gone for centuries, and I've got one foot in the grave. Quelaag needs to learn to control her temper on her own."

"You've had more than a foot in my domain, treasure-hunter," the Gravelord chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't worry about your impending demise too much. If your sisters can keep the lava from destroying your bones, I'll ensure you survive, so to speak. A reanimated husband and wife – such a novel idea! I can hardly wait!"

Quelara cringed.

"Well, we can speak of that another time. We have more pressing matters to attend."

"Ah, yes. The young master of Dark. Let us see what can be done for the girl."

Lex nodded and led them up the slope and up to the broken bars. Burning glyphs and vines that crackled with flame twisted around the red iron, forming an impenetrable barrier. Lex raised his hand, and they parted to make way. He and Quelara simply stepped through, but Nito was forced to reassemble his massive body and slither through as a serpent of clattering bone before retaking his humanoid form inside. The outer ring of the chamber was dark, lit only by the glow of the still more sealing runes around the edge, but the pit in the center was a field of absolute black darker than even the Tomb.

"You know, kid, that shit who kidnapped me told me that Dark grows stronger if you cram it all in a corner. I got to admit, I can think a lot more clearly in here. But I bet I'd think a _lot_ more clearly if you gave me that delicccccciousssssss glob of hhhhhumanity that you're hhhhholding onto!"

Wraith Beatrice rose from her tiny Abyss, and the wards around it sparked and hissed with the Flame of Life. Vines grew out from the runes and quickly bound the monster as it floated above the void. Her white hollow's eyes glowed out of the shadow as she looked down at them.

"You've got one hell of a monster fetish, kid. Have you made any boner jokes yet?"

"I was saving those for Vamos, actually," Lex said nonchalantly. "Male bonding sort of thing. Also, all the hammer jokes. The hammer is his penis."

Nito stared back at her with his own glowing eyes of Death.

"I'm afraid we've not been introduced. I am the Gravelord, Nito, and you don't seem to have been given a proper burial."

"Well, they're not exactly going to pray for the soul of the one who burned down one of the Dragon School's dormitories with the students and faculty trapped inside," Beatrice hissed. "I was lucky they weren't betting on me biting my tongue."

"So that disaster wasn't an accident. I had wondered, but I can learn little more than what is said during the ceremony. I wonder if you are any better than those Kings you replaced."

"Those shits started it! They deserved to _burnburnburnburnburnburnburnburn_!"

Beatrice's form began to warp and become more monstrous again, but she shrieked and forced herself to return to normal. She adjusted her hat.

"You know what's said at funerals, right? Witch Agatha."

Nito was silent for a moment, tilting his head in thought.

"Ah. Burned alive. The eulogist swore vengeance. So that was you. I cannot say your actions were any more wrong, but the Dark preys on such vivid emotion. If anything, you may be more dangerous than those Kings ruled by hubris."

"Stuff it in your eyesocket, you bag of bones. You think I don't realize when my sleeves start trying to eat me? It's all I can do to stay normal when every other thing you idiots say pisses me off."

Lex rubbed his chin.

"You know, this might be all right. We just need to get you something to meditate on, to take the edge off. Would you be okay with a mantra? I've got one that works out pretty well for you."

He didn't wait for a response before starting:

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Fo- _"…uh…" _Dark shall set me free._

"Whatever, kid. I'll try it," Beatrice sighed. "I'm guessing you didn't come here to recite poetry. What do you want from me? You owe _me_, not the other way around. Where are all those sorceries you promised me?"

"Well, you already got the Dark stuff, obviously, so you just need to head up to the Archives. Looks like Seath himself is hanging around with the sorcerers we've got over there."

"Yeah, I'll just walk back up to the city of the gods. It's not like I'm tied up in its sewers or anything."

Quelara smirked and traced her foot along one of the glyphs.

"Does it sound like I need to add a bit of Chaos to the seal? We let Quelana bind you because she's not tainted like the rest of us. Her flame doesn't feed on humanity. I wonder how long you'd last if I added my own power to the mix."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You know, we're going to have to deal with Mother soon. Would you like to be food for the Chaos Flame itself?"

Beatrice hissed and spat but mostly kept her human form.

"…set me free…" she whispered. "I'll try again. What do you shitstains want?"

Nito gestured to Lex, who nodded.

"We need your portion of Gwyn's Soul to open the Kiln of the First Flame. We can work out a mobile binding for you, but if you can keep yourself under control, we'll let you go. You're not an immediate danger to the world itself like the Four Kings or Manus. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for Alsanna's sake."

"How generous," Beatrice spat. "Lock me up, then offer to set me free."

"You tried to eat me, remember?"

"So did your ladyfriend!"

Lex started to respond, then crossed his arms.

"That-! Okay, fine, that's a good point. Just promise me that you're not going to try and steal Manus' soul. That's the giant lump of humanity."

All of the wraith's mouths ground their teeth.

"Ffffffffine."

Lex sighed.

"All right. Go ahead and let her go, onee-sama. Beatrice, wait for us at the Archives. We'll be heading up there to rob Seath before we head down to the Kiln. Just don't kill anyone up there."

"I already promised you one thing. What do I look like, a genie?"

"Well, I guess this is sort of like a bottle, so-"

"Just let me go, you shit!"

Quelara waved her hand, and the restraining the wraith released their grip. Their flame faded, and one by one, the glyphs went out. Beatrice's monstrous form fully returned for a moment before she forced herself to compact into a human shape again. Unbound, the Dark rushed out of the pit. Without another word, the wraith followed it upward through the vertical shaft and was gone.

"Still probably not the worst decision I've made here," Lex said, shrugging.

"That would be marrying Quelaag," Quelara teased. "We should return at once. With Lord Nito here to help, it's finally time to settle our family matters. I imagine you skipped the nearest Lord Soul deliberately."

"Right…" the prophet said awkwardly. "I didn't exactly know what you wanted to do as far as that went. You're supposed to die guarding the entrance alongside Kirk, so I was kind of assuming you wanted to avoid killing the Bed outright."

"Come along," the witch said, waving. "I'm not so sick that I can't walk and talk." As they headed down the ramp and into the swamp, she continued, "To be honest, we're not sure if that creature is Mother at all. The woman-shaped tree is her body, true, but Chaos is inherently parasitic. I hesitate to believe that even in madness, she would create such an ill-conceived thing as that Firesage."

As they walked, the normally hostile creatures of the swamp shied away from them. Ordinarily, they recognized the Daughters as fellow monsters and did not attack for fear of the witches' strength. Now, they outright retreated as the Lord of Death hobbled through that swamp of twisted life.

"I would echo Quelara's concerns," Nito said thoughtfully. "However, my opinion on the matter is quite transparently to put an end to the thing, Quel or not. Between Chaos and the Dark, I fear the former all the more. A world where the only living things are brute demons is uninteresting. Each death would be a matter of simple violence, and so Death as a whole would be meaningless.

What demon contemplates his own mortality? At least the beasts of the Dark know fear."

"I kind of wonder what Alsanna would be like as a Yellow Lantern."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow. You did mention that name before."

"Just a tangent. Alsanna is the Child of Dark-slash-Daughter of the Abyss that's the Augur of Fear. A Yellow Lantern is a fictional thing that's sort of like a sorcerer – but powered by fear."

"I see. An interesting thought to be sure, but I feel you should be more focused on the fear of meeting your mother-in-law. Ordinary ones give their new sons a hard time. I hate to imagine what the Mother of Demons would do."

Lex smirked.

"She's the wickedest Witch that ever was! I'm living under her curse! Wish I could make her disappear! Or maybe something worse! After she spends an hour or two, I always need a nurse! Mother-in-law is the scariest thing in all of the universe!

Grandma's coming, I can smell the smoke! I'm quaking in my boots, and this ain't no joke! Grandma's coming, I can see the steam! Grandma's the only thing on Earth, can make a dinosaur scream!"

"Oh? Grandma? Are you and Quelaag already expecting?"

The human choked.

"Uh, not…yet… probably. Does an Undead's special sauce even work? Quelaag, uh, seemed to think so, but she's also literally lived under a rock for a few hundred years."

"I wouldn't know. Quelara?"

The witch shrugged.

"I'll check Mother's journals. The condition was very rare before the accident, but if anyone would have known, it would have been her. Given what I've heard from Kirk, I doubt any children conceived from or by Undead in the rest of the world are especially talkative about it."

"Well, that's something to research, I guess. Maybe Seath knows too."

QUELAAG'S DOMAIN

Nito had to hunch over to pass through the entrance tunnel, and here too, the egg-burdened hollows fled from his presence. At the end was the familiar fog wall, but in crossing, they found the associated boss was different. Quelaag was absent from her usual perch at the Bell tower's entrance, and instead Priscilla stood awkwardly in the center of the room. She tugged anxiously at the bottom of her new spider-silk summer dress and hugged at her exposed arms. Admitting that her usual fur coat was a little warm with all the lava around had been a mistake – this was entirely too much exposed skin.

"Oh!" she yelped, straightening her clothing. "Lex, Quelara! Welcome back! And thee, sir!"

Lex covered his mouth so that she wouldn't see him snicker at her embarrassment. Quelara made no effort to hide her grin, and Nito's reaction was impossible to gauge from his featureless skull. She relaxed a little as the three approached. Someone who thought bonewheels were "kind" had no prejudice against a mostly humanoid skeleton.

"Ah! You must be Velka's first. I am the Gravelord, Nito. A pleasure to meet you."

He extended a hand in greeting, but she shrunk away.

"Please. The touch of my skin is dea-"

"My dear, I am Death's very emissary."

He pat her on the head gently, suffering no ill effect. She looked up at him in wonder, then felt the top of her own head.

"I must confess that the fault for your affliction is in some way mine. Had I dealt with that Pinwheel sooner-"

He was cut off by the creaking of his own bones as the half-dragon hugged him to the point of breaking.

"Well, I'll see you around, Papa Nito," Lex said, waving. "I need to go find my father-in-law and ask him uncomfortable questions about cross-species reproduction."


	58. Exhibitionism

LOST IZALITH

The Gravelord and the Crossbreed looked on the ruined palace-laboratory of the Witch of Izalith. Though saying a mostly unfeeling skeleton was anxious would be too much, they both had some degree of trepidation. They were there as final guards, in case something went horribly wrong. The prophet had explained that killing the Bed would have been a simple process. Determining whether the creature was Quel herself, another sibling, or just a mere demon would be much more work.

Jeremiah and Quelaag stood on the last step before the throne room solemnly, Lex seated behind his wife's torso on a fireproof saddle. Quelara coughed nervously as Vamos, wearing his golden helmet at last, adjusted the countless magic rings on her fingers and in her ears. Quelaav paced restlessly, still not quite used to having three legs instead of eight, while Kirk tried to calm her down. Several paces back so that her sisters wouldn't see her, Quelana blushed under her hood and gripped Laurentius' hand tightly. Quella towered in the middle distance, ready to break through the roof if he was ever needed.

"Let us begin," the King said quietly.

He pushed through the fog, and the others were swiftly behind him. Directly beyond it was a smooth stone ramp, to prevent any experimental monsters from escaping. The Witch had hardly counted on how powerful the Chaos demons would be. As such, while Quelaag and Quelaav had no problems, the others found no traction on the surface and quickly began the slide into the heart of the Chaos. Lex raised his talisman as Quelaag quickly raced ahead of the others.

_Woo!_

_Oh yeah!_

_Rolling around at the speed of sound!_

_Got places to go, got to follow my rainbow!_

_Can't stick around, have to keep moving on!_

_Guess what lies ahead, only one to find out!_

_Must keep on moving ahead!_

_No time for guessing, follow my plan instead!_

_Trusting in what you can't see!_

_Take my lead, I'll set you free!_

_Follow me, set me free!_

_Trust me, and we'll escape from the city!_

_I'll make it through, follow me!_

_Follow me, set me free!_

_Truste me, and we'll escape from the city!_

_I'll make it through, prove it to you!_

_Follow me!_

_Oh yeah!_

The spider demon shot out of the end of the tunnel like a bullet, a trail of divine power streaming behind her as she kicked into the air and over the throne. Jeremiah and Quelara shimmered like heat haze as they raced to opposite sides of the chamber at breakneck speeds. They quickly cut the golden sealing vines with ritual glass knives, then swung their whips at roots hanging overhead and dashed up the walls. Without warning, the immense mass of vines growing from the throne bolted upright, revealing its humanoid form and shrieking like a mandrake. A perfect sphere of flame rose above its head, and great skeletal scythes aflame erupted from it. As the monster tested its newfound strength and freedom, the ancient stone of the palace began to crumble beneath the group.

"Kirk, Vamos, now!"

The Knight of Thorns ran at the blacksmith, who stood at the edge of safety. Kirk jumped into Vamos' waiting hands, and the powerful old bones snapped back as if raising a hammer. The Knight sprung into the air, over the sweeping tendrils of the Bed and into a hole in the floor directly in front of it. His thorned armor easily caught hold of a broad root, and he rolled to his feet as he rushed beneath the demon. Abruptly, it crashed back down in front of him.

"I'm blocked!" he shouted as he faced down the eyeless head, fending off vine-like "hair" with his small shield.

"Not this again," Lex grumbled. "Quelaag?"

"Does it look like I'm anywhere near done?" she hissed as she continued running across the ceiling, weaving an elaborate web.

"Kirk!" Quelaav yelped.

The rest of the group had been waiting near the entrance while the plan unfolded, but now the Aquila demon stepped forward. She flapped her six wings rhythmically and slowly began to lift off the ground. Her flight was more like an insect's than a bird's as she buzzed left and right out of the way of danger without turning, but she quickly made her way into the seemingly bottomless pit beneath the Bed. Kirk had been forced to retreat to a lower supporting vine as smaller ones came after him in greater numbers, but seeing Quelaav, he grabbed hold of one of his attackers and swung himself up to her. As he arced through the air, she quickly caught him between two of her talons and flew straight up.

As vines rushed out of the floor to chase after them, Lex swung past on a spare thread and hacked away at them. The Bed shrieked again and rose to face him. As it lashed at him with its burning bones, he rolled his body rhythmically to keep the thread swinging out of danger.

"So!" he said awkwardly. "Hi, I guess! I'm, uh, uh, uh, well, uh, hi!"

"Grow a spine!" Quelaag shouted from above.

"That's rich coming from an invertebrate!" He sighed before continuing, "So anyway, I'm Lex, Quelaag's husband! Nice to meet you! Obviously, we couldn't invite you to the wedding because you'd have killed everyone, but it was nice!"

Now, instead of flailing wildly, the Bed tried to crush him between its palms like a fly. Quelaav quickly jerked the thread, yanking him up and out of danger at the last moment.

"Whoa! Thanks, imouto!"

He quickly twisted his hips and swung toward the Bed instead, jumping to land on its shoulder.

"You know, I was always disappointed that no one really tried to integrate _Shadow of the Colossus_ gameplay. That should have been the beginning of a new genre."

The tree-woman swatted at him like a mosquito, but he hopped aside. As he awkwardly rolled across the stone bark, the flame entity that rose above it swatted at him with its tendrils of burning bone.

"So there are-"

He ducked under a blazing scythe.

"-a lot of plot holes in the sequel, but-"

The tree body jerked and tried to buck him off.

"-the Lost Sinner actually seemed to be-"

A wave of burning tendrils swept across the back, and he was forced to quickly clamber up onto the Bed's head.

"-pretty lucid, actually. To say nothing of Aldia, but he's a Mary Sue anyway. So the question becomes why one of the original Lords went utterly insane when these random Undead didn't."

The hair tentacles quickly bound his arms and legs so he couldn't get away again.

"You probably want to get this cut with all the fire around. When I had long hair, I almost caught it on fire when I was lighting a Bunsen burner in chemistry class. Anyway. Quelaag! Help!"

The second daughter shook her head and sighed.

"Sister, Father, on my mark!"

Quelara and Jeremiah readied themselves from their positions on the sides of the domed roof while Quelaag centered herself above the Bed.

"Mark!"

The crown princess and the king swung down on singular threads. As they reached the ends of their arcs, the bits of web anchoring them to the ceiling slipped loose, and they swung lower and faster. Point after point fell loose from the ceiling, each thread connected to three more. In the blink of an eye, Quelara and Jeremiah swung under the Bed and past each other, tumbling to safety on the opposite sides of the chamber. An enormous net of fireproof demon-silk bound not just the physical body of the tree-woman but the body of Chaos flame that hovered above it as well.

Now, Quelana and Laurentius stepped forward. The last uncorrupted Daughter began weaving another seal, drawing burning glyphs in the air with the might of her soul. Her apprentice followed suit, though his own patterns were crude and misshapen. The brands began to shoot through the air, binding to the stone flesh of the Bed. The tree-woman shrieked again but was held firmly by the strength of the net.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Quelaag swung down to Lex. By now, he'd been crushed half to death, but freeing him was a simple matter. She hacked through the tendrils violently, using nothing but the jagged edges of her sword since fire wouldn't work.

"Remind me to have someone else cut my hair," the prophet choked out as he caught his breath.

She yanked him out from under the net and threw him onto her back before any vines could snake out after him.

"Kirk, try now!" she barked.

He nodded, and Quelaav hovered down to drop him into the pit again. Just as she was about to let go, however, the sound of a rope snapping echoed through the chamber. All eyes went to the net, looking for a break. More and more snaps rang out from the Bed like a strand of firecrackers until it became a continuous ripping. The Bed's tiny insect wings buzzed, and it raised itself up straight with its four arms.

Still more of the floor broke away as roots burst up from below. They twisted until they broke, and the Bed of Chaos rose on crude legs. It staggered forward over the pit, still bound but bent on stopping Quelana and Laurentius. Quelaav quickly swept backward, interposing herself between her mother and sister. She grasped her hands together as if in prayer, and columns of sunfire burst from the floor in front of her, blocking the Bed's passage like Gwyn's golden fog.

As the pillars receded, she dropped Kirk and backed away while Vamos stepped to the fore with a greataxe and spider shield. Still trapped by the net, the Bed simply fell forward in an attempt to ram through them and into the pyromancers. The Knight and the blacksmith grit their teeth and raised their shields as the raging behemoth plowed into them. They were pushed back but managed to keep their footing as the demon was unexpectedly slowed. Behind it, two new threads were hastily lashed onto its newfound legs.

Quelaag dragged one leg out from under it with the stability of her multi-legged body, while Lex, Quelara, and Jeremiah struggled to avoid being dragged along by the other strand. Still, the combined effort halted the monster's charge, and gave Quelara enough time to finish her incantations. Vines not under the demon archtree's command erupted from the broken earth and wrenched it to the floor. As it tried to rise again and to slash at its restraints with its burning bone blades, still more wrapped around it, growing tighter and tighter. A ring of arcane runes formed an absolute boundary around the Bed, through which it could never pass.

"Well, not quite according to plan, but that worked out well enough, I guess," Lex said, sighing. "Now who wants to see the totally gross maggot?"

Though both the tree body and the flame body writhed against the bindings, the Bed was no more able to free itself than Beatrice had been.

"Do hurry," Quelana said quietly. "I can hardly bear to see Mother in this state. I don't think I could bear anything more."

"If there is no need for me, I'll remain here as well," Quelaav added.

"I'll stay with Laav," Kirk said quickly.

"I've done more than enough here," Vamos grumbled.

"I-if you don't mind, I want to stay as far away from madness as I can, Master Lex," Laurentius said at last.

Lex nodded, and he led Quelaag, Quelara, and Jeremiah into the sealed area. No sooner had he done so when the Bed screamed and unleashed a Chaos Firestorm.

"Oh, give it a rest!" Quelaag hissed as she walked through a column of flame unharmed. "Honestly, I can't believe that this _thing _could be Mother. It is utterly lacking in grace."

"We will see, Quelaag," Jeremiah said anxiously. "I hope that thou'rt right, for Quel's sake."

Lex led them to the throne, and without the bulk of the body there to block their way, the three humanoids were able to simply climb down into the insect's burrow without jumping onto the dangling root below. Quelaag, of course, had trouble fitting and was forced to hack through the roots as best she could. Flame burst from every direction as they descended, in a last desperate defense by the Bed. Lex and Jeremiah calmly evaded them, but here it became obvious that Quelara too was a demon, as she walked through the pillars of fire without flinching. At last, they came to end of the path, a small domed room of roots where something lay writhing.

It was a maggot the size of Siegmeyer's torso, an odd number of too-small misshapen legs flailing helplessly beneath it. It lay on its side, too fat to roll over and flee, and glowing eyes that struggled to remain open glared malevolently at the trespassers. At the end of its curled body was a long, trailing tail that led into the root formation.

"Right, so," Lex said awkwardly. "I wouldn't say I'm an expert on the matter, but this kind of looks, uh, you know, fetus-y. Right? I mentioned the Lost Sinner earlier – she had a bug like this but smaller that goes inside her eye and maybe controls her. Or maybe the bug is the Sinner. Hard to say."

The others grimaced and looked at the maggot carefully.

"That's beside the point," Quelara said at last. "Whatever this is, we need to decide if we can control it or if it must be destroyed. If we keep it, then we must find some means of taking it to the Firelink Altar. I, for one, don't want to take the risk. I was with Mother when this thing was created. Still, killing it means that one of us will be burdened with that corrupted Soul."

Quelaag nodded.

"I agree, sister. Birds eat fat, juicy bugs like this one. Velka would snatch it right up. If it would not be presumptuous, I volunteer to take Mother's Soul. I am the strongest of us and would be the most resistant to whatever madness it may cause."

Jeremiah ground his teeth.

"I do not wish to judge even this thing. I know what prejudice one mighteth experience for possessing terrible power. And I do not wish to lose Quel if there is any chance the creature is her. Most of all, though, I fear to lose any one of you shouldeth the power prove too great. If the decision is to slay the creature, then allow me take the Soul. It is the duty of a parent to beareth his children's burdens."

Lex shook his head.

"I don't think I have any right to vote on this," he said solemnly. "And since I've missed out on absorbing the other Lord Soul chunks, I don't know how stressful that is. Sorry, but I can't even offer foresight here."

Quelaag nodded.

"Then now is a good time to decide the matter of succession. If we believe that this creature is Mother, then Father is her regent. If we do not, then rule passes to sister. This is fair, is it not?"

They both nodded.

"Practically speaking, even if the _maggot_ is Mother, she will be in no state to rule for the foreseeable future. We are deciding, in essence, who will command Izalith when it wages war on the world of man."

Quelara swallowed and licked her lips.

"I can't accept the crown in good conscience. Not while the Chaos still eats away at my body."

Jeremiah smiled.

"Likewise. A coward who fledeth when his people needed him has no right to leadeth them to glory."

They both looked at Quelaag expectantly. She snorted.

"You can't expect me to do it! How am I supposed to command the legions while I'm drowning in legislation?"

Quelara crossed her arms.

"Gwyn managed."

"And Vendrick and the Ivory King and Straid's BFF," Lex added.

"Traitor!" Quelaag hissed.

"So it's settled," Quelara chuckled. "The creature is not Mother, and I hereby abdicate. Take your inheritance, Witch of Izalith."

Quelaag sighed, grimacing.

"You had best remember this the next time you think of commanding me, sister."

She had remained a distance back due to the height of the burrow, but now she squeezed in as best she could. Dispassionately, she raised her Furysword, then in a single motion, lopped off the maggot's head. The power of the Bed leapt immediately from the corpse and into the aura of Chaos flame that cloaked the Daughter. It ran from the tip of her sword up her arm and across her entire body. She shuddered and dug her nails into her own arms.

"I… may have misjudged my own strength…" she wheezed.

Her eyes shone like lanterns, and when she opened her mouth, lava oozed out. Her spider wasn't much better off, a constant stream of lava drooling from its mouth, and its legs twitching one direction, then another. Both her own body and the spider's cracked and tore as gouts of flame spurted out. She took one deep breath after another.

"Quelara. Tell Quelana to ready another seal. I don't think I can-"

"Give me half of it."

She stared at Lex.

"What? Gwyn split his soul a bamillion times. Come on, let's do the Guardians of the Galaxy thing. Give me your hand."

Quelaag smirked.

"You're as incorrigible as you're irreverent. Asking someone to split their mother's soul, honestly?"

"Yeah, that does sound bad out of context," he said as she reached for his extended pyromancy flame.

The moment before they touched, there was a spark of power, and an instant later, the Flame of Chaos raced up his arm to consume him. This wasn't like before, a simple spell that used life force as fuel. His body burned, his mind burned, his soul burned. His darkest instincts sizzled at the forefront of his thoughts as his skin split to reveal vines underneath instead of muscle. Fortunately, the darkest instincts of a gamer were nothing like those of the hardened warriors who were usually Chosen.

He jerked Quelaag forward and kissed her savagely. As the Chaos Soul struggled to find equilibrium between them, she fumbled for the clips on his armor, and failing to find them, simply tore out the belts themselves. Even as the leather and steel dug into his flesh, the Flame within him regenerated his Undead body.

"Are you two going to-" Quelara started. When there was no response, she nodded and instead said, "Well, Father, I believe we should make ourselves scarce. Though I wonder if this brings back any memories. Sometimes the throne room was unexpectedly locked…"

Jeremiah turned away and started walking back up the burrow.

"A child should hardly inquireth about her parents' private matters. For what it is worth, your mother did once admitteth that the tradition of bare midriffs had no cultural basis. She constructed the norm from whole cloth as a feat of social engineering."

Quelara hurried after him before things got too heated.

"Wait, you mean to say that-"

"Indeed. There was no fertility symbolism to it. It was simply Quel's preference."

He rapped on his own exposed abs and laughed sadly as he headed back outside.


	59. Tasteless as well as blind

THE DUKE'S ARCHIVES

The bonfire burbled and lashed out suddenly, causing Arnalt to fall backward out of his chair.

"'anser! The fire's doin' some weird shit!"

It flared up and cracked the marble floor as vegetation began to grow out from the flame. As Hanser, Logan, and unexpectedly Griggs quickly rushed in from the innermost library, Lex emerged from the fire with a strange look in his eye.

"Yo! How's the studying going? Anyone go insane from the creepy whispering voices yet?"

"No, actually," Hanser huffed, "though I wish you had mentioned them beforehand. I thought I was having flashbacks. Fortunately, young Griggs knew a sorcery able to silence them. Another interesting avenue to pursue when we have the time."

"Mm. The Chosen Undead, I presume," Hatless Logan said as he approached. "I've heard much of you and was hoping we would meet. It is so rare to find a kindred spirit amongst the men of the cloth. Imagine my surprise when Griggs told me that a cleric Chosen by the gods was interested in developing new magic without them! I am Logan, though you are no doubt aware. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Lex shook his hand vigorously.

"King Lexaeus of Izalith, Prophet of Slaanesh. Well, I'm sorry about your hat. If it hasn't been destroyed, then a, uh, Dark Wraith but not a Darkwraith has it. Speaking of which, she should have arrived by now."

Griggs made a very strange face and muttered, "King… of Izalith?"

Logan looked back to the others, who shook their heads.

"We haven't seen _anyone_, much less a 'Dark Wraith,' if that's what you're calling that rude young woman who made off with it. Mm. Now that I think on it, we haven't seen Seath in some time."

"Ooooh boooy," Lex sighed. "Do you know where he went?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's slipped my mind."

"'e wen' deeper int' th' garden," Arnalt said, waving. "'ard t' miss when it's th' most anyone's moved in hours."

"Hahhh. The Crystal Cave. And here I thought I could avoid it."

He sighed and looked over the balcony while digging through his pack. He withdrew the rope and tied the end to the railing before throwing the rest over the side.

"Well, I'm off to make sure no one dies before the final battle and to raid Seath's titanite stores. I guess it's cool if you guys stay here researching stuff, but we're going to fight Velka for the fate of the world or whatever soon. Just a head's up. Don't actually know when she's going to show up."

"We wouldn't miss it," Hanser said grimly.

"If nothing else, it would be a rare opportunity to see the ancient magics in the Witch-Goddess' possession," Logan added, nodding. "Griggs and I will attend as well."

"Ha! No kill like overkill! I think at this rate, friendly fire is going to be more dangerous than Velka. We'll send someone to get you when she shows. Though honestly, we might just parade through the Kiln to attract her attention."

"The Kiln? The Kiln of the First Flame?" Logan said excitedly. "I'd eat my hat for the chance to study it!"

"Well, it's a good thing your hat is gone, isn't it?"

Lex waved as he clambered over the ledge and began to rappel down the wall. Midway to the bottom, a thought occurred to him.

"You know, I could probably just have Quesadilla take me down to the boss room, but I'm not sure if I want to have her and Beatrice and Seath in the same place."

He hopped down the last bit and made his way down the slope of the wooded garden. On the far side, there was as massive crater in the ground from which enormous crystals rose like a blight on the land. They didn't break the surface so much as become the surface, turning even the nearest trees into glittering spindels. Crystal golems turned as they heard his footsteps, and he quickly broke into a sprint. As they lumbered ahead to intercept him, he dashed past them and onto a fallen crystal far larger than the sarcophagi used as bridges in Nito's domain.

CRYSTAL CAVE

The cleric slid to the bottom, where it intercepted a rough geode. There, he rose and quickly made his way down the uneven surface as another golem hurried up toward him. It swung its arms back and made a flying leap for him, but he ducked under it and turned again onto the next crystal bridge. Another geode, another turn onto a crystal bridge, another geode, another turn onto a crystal bridge. Here, the path differed – a second crystal jutted from the end of the first at a right angle, but he charged straight ahead without hesitation.

Over the edge he went, only he didn't fall. The unseen crystal beneath his feet ran straight ahead through a crevice and to a visible one on the other side. He grabbed a humanity sprite from the corpse there and then hopped back onto the main path, quickly descending down the glimmering cave wall and following the ledge to a dead end. Here, he turned and charged off the ledge, rising through the open air on another arbitrarily invisible path. When he reached the visible bridge on the other side, one of the larger golden golems ran toward him, but he kept moving.

_Fire._

He made a shooting motion with his left hand and blasted the mobile road block into some of the smaller crystal spindels rising from the next platform, shattering them before the thing tumbled over the edge to shatter on the cave floor. He simply continued, turning and crossing the platform until it ended. Paying the nearby moonlight butterfly no heed as he passed under its fluttering wing, he simply hopped down and turned in place on the invisible platform. He raised his pyromancy flame and quickly hurled a Great Chaos Fireball into the passage behind him. Three crystal lizards sizzled to a crisp, and he quickly stuffed their corpses into his bag before turning back to the invisible path.

"This DM is a serial PC killer!" he screamed as he ran straight ahead, crossing half the cavern in a single sprint.

At last, the prophet skidded to a stop on a visible bit of crystal jutting out off of a ledge. He turned and headed into a crevasse beyond. The cave on the other side sloped downward into a fog wall, but between where he stood and there were a number of giant oysters with legs.

"Time for a bit of early farming, I guess," he said as he slipped on the gold serpent ring.

One of the creatures had noticed him and was walking forward on its long, spindly legs with all the grace of a conga line. As it approached, he awakened his armor and took his sword in both hands. With a thunderous crash, he hammered the heavy blade into its shell, cracking it and sending the thing reeling. He stomped forward and followed with a second blow, shattering the bone with a jingling uproar. This of course attracted all the other monster oysters.

"I hate seafood."

He switched to his pyromancy flame and ran Chaos down the length of his blade. More than a simple aura now, the embers fed into the steel and surged beneath the hamon like a fish beneath the waves. Sparks jumped out of the back and flipped through the rings before splashing back into the flat. As the armor dug into his ever-regenerating flesh and feasted on the power of the Life Lord, the lion on his shoulder roared and rattled the interlocking plates. The King of Izalith grinned madly and stood his ground.

Two pairs approached him from the front, and a hidden one snuck up from behind. The first two lunged forward, scraping the stone with the bottoms of their shells as they tried to throw him with the spikes around the rims of their lids. Lex quickly backstepped, and as they flipped some bits of stone into the air, he slid forward, sweeping his sword with him. Though the attack lacked the explosive power of the first, the blade cut a glowing line through the armor, cutting the lip off of both shells. As the monster recoiled in agony, he stepped forward again and hacked through one then the other.

The others continued onward fearlessly, stepping over the bodies of their fellows like any other obstacle. The nearest one hazarded a kick, but Lex simply hacked off its feet. It recoiled the injured legs but now had some trouble balancing its precariously large body. As the other one surged forward blindly, the cleric dodged forward and knocked over the injured one before whirling around to cut his attacker through the hinge. He flipped his sword over and stabbed it through the top of the fallen one before turning to face the last.

It continued on its merry way as if the rest of its kind hadn't been reduced to melted chunks. Lex simply wheeled forward and slashed through it with an overhead strike before it could react. He sighed and bent down to examine the contents of the oyster's mouth. Countless human skulls were stuck together under a thin layer of nacre.

"I wonder if Quelaag would like a pearl necklace or if she just doesn't care about jewelry."

At last, he found what he was looking for – a large chip of the shimmering material that wasn't coating anything. He broke it off and stuffed it in his bag before checking the other oysters. Once he'd collected all the twinkling titanite and purging stones, which were thumb-sized leaden bricks of nacreous human bone, he approached the fog.

"So this means that either Seath is home or Beatrice killed him and went crazy and became the new boss, same as the old boss."

The Lord pushed against the fog, and it caught alight, burning away instead of simply fading. In the cave beyond waited the ancient white dragon. He was laughing his horrible cicada laugh. At his (lack of) eye level hovered a moonlight butterfly. Despite being able to fly herself, Beatrice was seated on its back.

Lex's head tilted to one side as he tried to puzzle out exactly what was going on. Before he could say anything, though, the blind dragon turned toward him.

"_An iiiiiiinteresting soul! Greetings to you, Choooooooosen Undead and Lord of Izalith!_"

"Uh, yeah. I guess. Hi. I wasn't exactly expecting you two to be getting along if you were all the way down here, you know, with the Primordial Crystal."

"_Yessss. Young Beatrice did try to steal my Cryyyyyyystal. From the moment I sensed her presence, she was making a bbbbeeline for it._"

"You can't expect me to not go after such a huge blob of power!" the witch said, shrugging. "I could sense the thing from miles away!"

"I thought you wanted to lose the Crystal," Lex said plainly. "Usually, you just kind of blind fire with your death laser until you destroy it yourself."

The dragon craned its neck down to the human's level. Its head alone was the size of his entire body. He immediately regretted his use of the word "blind," but a crooked smile formed on Seath's skinless lips.

"_Uuuusually?_"

"Uh oh."

"_No, do tell, prrrrrrophet. You seemed so nonpllllllussed about traveling through time itself – the greatest power that could ever be. Ttttell me: your powers of prophecy do not derive from those ppppetty gods, do they? If they had such power, they would keeeeeeep it to themselves._"

"Time travel?" Beatrice echoed. "You mean like what what's-her-face was doing?"

"_Another?_"

"Well, that's not exactly right," Lex said quickly. "Someone was able to establish a link over the ages to directly send her summon sign to this era. Though why freeing her sent her back to her own era in the first place is super hazy. I mean, Beatrice didn't go back."

"_Freeing...? That's whhhere that princess went! I was ffffinally about to examine her, and lo and behold, she's gone!_"

The dragon made a noise that vaguely sounded like a sigh.

"_Thhhhat is a matter for another time. What of your travels, 'prophet'?_"

"Yeah, I'll go ahead and give it to you straight before you go and cause a Time of Cascading Years or some other catastrophe. I'm actually not from the future. I'm from an alternate reality where the prophecy of the Chosen Undead is form of interactive fiction. You inexplicably survive your death here and go on to continue being a pain in the ass in the sequel, where you possess a giant, two-headed spider."

"_What?_"

"Yeah, the sequel doesn't make a whole lot of sense. All the dragons have souls. Even you."

"_Wwwwwell,_" Seath chuckled, "_that at leassssst is not no far-fetttched. Though you are no doubt awwware, the cinders of Flame do not truly diiiiie. It is an unnecessssssary risk to rely upon a fragile Cryssssstal for immortality. Until the time ccccomes when I am able to reproduce such, I have created a soooul for myself, that I might recur when the Flllllame rises from the ashes._"

"Then why wouldn't you let me have the Crystal, you shit?!" Beatrice huffed.

"_Because I had hoped to ffffalsify my death before the Chosen Unddddead. It seems that is futile. You may doooo as you please with it. Nowwww, Chosen Undead and Lord of Izalith, iffff you know that I will not fall here, thhhhhen what is your purpose?_"

"I need, like, a _lot_ of twinkling titanite. Ethical concerns about how you make it aside."

The dragon's horrible buzzing laughter filled the chamber yet again.

"_For the sssssake of defeating that treacherous Velka, you may take as much as you wwwwwill – in exchange for but a sssssecret._"

Seath looked back at Beatrice, who had returned to her monstrous form and was struggling to pry the enormous crystal from its setting without breaking it.

"_Iiiiiis your friend seeing anyone right now?_"


	60. NOT AS KEIKAKU

FIRELINK ALTAR

"So this is everybody, right?"

The Altar was an excellent example of poor planning. It had been designed to exactly accommodate Gwyn, Quel, and Nito standing together. By the time Gwyn arrived to Link the Flame, he had grown so large that he had trouble fitting on the platform alone and had to stoop to pass through the oversized doors to the Kiln. Now, the problem was similar – there were so many people at the Altar that half of them were forced to sit awkwardly on hastily-woven hammocks of spiderweb. Nearly every NPC in the game and several of the bosses waited anxiously for the new Lords (and the irreplaceable Nito) to open the passage to the birthplace of civilization.

"Is this really all necessary, Chosen Undead?" Frampt complained as he loomed over the gathering. "The Great Lord brought his Knights because he was unaware of the Kiln's power. What is your design in bringing so many?"

"I'm basically just having a party. Nito said that Velka really hates Izalith, so I figured I should get everyone out. She's never going to have a better chance to come after us, even if it is an obvious trap. If she doesn't show up, I'm going to try something to buy us a little more time without, uh… repeating history."

"And your reason for allowing the Gravelord to live?"

"Hey, I let pretty much everyone live. Nito is actually a decent person, though. There's like a fifty-fifty chance of us going back to put Seath on trial for war crimes, but when he dies, he'll just reincarnate, and we'll lose track of him, so getting on his bad side might just not be worth it."

The Primordial Serpent groaned.

"That beast yet draws breath? You are truly the successor to Lord Gwyn, even in his failings!"

Lex just shrugged and weaved his way through the crowded platform to the Lordvessel.

"Are we ready?"

"As ever we will be," Nito said, nodding. "Give me your hands."

Lex, Quelaag, and Quelaav all extended their right hands over the dull flame in the bowl. Beatrice huffed and crossed her arms, but after several seconds, finally added hers. Nito placed his enormous bony hand overtop theirs and pressed downward. The black Flame of Occult surged downward, collecting the harsh white light of Lifedrain, the gentle orange of Sunfire, the maddening red of Chaos, and the translucent blur of Rhythm. The combined Flame of the five Lords poured into the Lordvessel and washed over the edges.

"I kind of feel like this ought to summon a Megazord."

Before anyone could comment on Lex's interrupting an otherwise sacred moment, the enormous stone doors opened with a deafening rumble. Beyond was a field of blinding light.

"Well, let's get a move on," Lex said, utterly unfazed.

Quelaag hurried after him as he headed through the gateway without missing a beat, but the others hesitated. The Kiln was a sacred place, the origin of the world as they knew it. With the gods and fate being very real, only someone from another world entirely could enter without the slightest trepidation. This was, of course, the reason why one was here.

A stone staircase passed through a corridor of pure white light, the white fog that had sealed away countless monsters rolling along the steps. From the left, hazy figures drifted past like shadows in the fog. Countless ghostly Black Knights marched across the path one by one, ignoring the intruders.

"Even in death, I still serve," Lex quoted in a grating voice.

"Who built this?" Quelaag asked, unsure whether her husband knew the answer. "The steps are human-sized. Mother always built to accommodate Quelana's size, but was this not a passage for the Lords alone?"

Nito was hobbling as quickly as he could to catch up.

"The Kiln is older than we," he said nostalgically. "Dragons… dragons are certainly terrifying, but in that gray world, they could hardly be stirred. It was Flame itself that was the greatest danger. The Kiln was constructed that the wretches in the Dark might protect themselves from it… and harness its might."

"The humans?!" Quelaag gasped.

"No. In the beginning, in the Dark, there was no distinction of that sort. Only those closest to the Flame suffered that curse. Before, all creatures were 'pygmies' as the humans are, but they learned to Want. The mightiest of them stole fragments of the unbroken Flame and brought to light that particular Disparity.

It was after this that you Daughters were born. You did not see the fleeting beauty of Ilyon, where the living were equal as the dead, and even that distinction bore little value."

"Do not slander Izalith, Gravelord," the queen hissed. "The humans were never treated as anything but shorter and shorter-lived."

"Even that is a distinction, my girl. True equality remains only in the peace of death. I am the first of the dead, but I claim no dominion over them. Those that serve me do so at their leisure. I serve Death; it does not serve me."

"Listen here, you pompous bag of bo-"

Lex grabbed her hand.

"Come on, we can have ethical debates later. Let's slap the crap out of Velka first."

"Hmph. If it my consort's request, then so be it. We will speak of this later, Gravelord."

"I look forward to it," Nito chuckled pleasantly.

They continued downward in silence, Lex and Quelaag continuing to hold each other's hand despite the awkwardness caused by the height difference. It wasn't long before another set of hurried footsteps interrupted their peaceful walk, however. Oscar quickly came up alongside them, lifting his visor.

"Lex," he said quietly, "these Knights don't look right. They're not marching together. It's almost like… they're on patrol. You said this was the resting place of Lord Gwyn. Still, why aren't they facing the exit?"

"Actually, once we get inside, you'll notice that the pillars and stuff are all slagged counter-clockwise. I'm guessing that the Knights are walking in the same direction. Don't know why they aren't moving together."

Oscar nodded and stopped until Solaire caught up, leaving the couple to pass through the rough-hewn archway together.

KILN OF THE FIRST FLAME

Beyond the initial platform was a wasteland of bleached ruins rising over dunes of ash. In the distance was the crumbling central tower of what had been a magnificent temple. All around stood the remains of decorative outer walls, spikes of melted stone running counter-clockwise. Over all hung smoggy clouds, a dim golden light barely breaking through above the tower.

"What?! How?!" Quelaag complained. "We're underground!"

"Well, it's not hard to blame it on warping. Some sort of stairway to heaven," Lex murmured. "Still, where we are is a pretty valid question. How do you manage to hide all this? Pocket plane? I don't want to deal with another Shadow Mulsantir."

As the rest of the group came to stop on the last paved platform, he looked back to make sure no one had slipped and fallen into the glowing oblivion. A shadow passed overhead as he looked back up the empty passage, then turned to face his final challenge as Chosen Undead. He gripped his trusty divine claymore tightly and continued on alone, as he always had.

"I just wish I could have saved Solaire," he sighed.

He rubbed his chin.

"Why didn't I? I started with the Old Witch's… Master Key. I should have just sucked it up and fought my way through the Depths."

He stepped off the platform and into the ash, heading down the hill to face the first of the Black Knight guardians. He didn't feel anything as his wife's lifeless hand slipped from his. He couldn't hear the jangling of his modified armor and the sword that was his wedding gift. Even still, he was better off than the others. Fearless warrior and raging monster alike had fallen into the ash and lay like corpses.

"Please, leave me be… I have not long to live, and I may harm you after death… Now, go…"

"Ahh, it's over… My sun… it's setting… It's dark, so dark…"

"Heavens, me… My dear little Lin…"

"Quelaag… But, why…?"

"Ahh… But, why… What seeketh thee?"

"But, how…? You humans… My dear Ar…tor…"

An inky blackness fell into the ash as a rain of soot. It piled up as a distinct mound, then slithered to a standing position. Long black claws gathered up pitiful handfuls of ash and patted them across cracked bone and scorched flesh. A monster in dull monochrome soon took shape. It danced as it revived, a snowman made from the holy remains of martyrs and archtrees.

Flawless flesh of ivory, with high cheekbones and a sharp nose. A tight-fitting gown of blackest silk, with long gloves and longer stockings. Silver bangles chiming a wicked alleluia. A black blindfold and a collar of crow's feathers. Raven hair that flowed like a pennant in the still air.

Velka. Raven-Haired Witch. Goddess of Sin. Third consort of the Lord of Sunlight. Darkmoon.

"There," she hummed to herself as she rubbed a few stray grains from her cheek. "As beautiful as ever."

She kissed her fingertips with her black lips and looked over the fallen with disdain.

"More fuel for the Flame, I suppose. I had hoped to keep the Souls as they were, but it is no huge setback. There are always heroes more than willing to carve their names into the Flame."

She strode to the archway and kicked the excess ash from her bare feet. At her approach, the spirits of the Black Knights in the passage turned at once. They did not stop or hesitate, but as they glared at the traitor, their weightless footsteps left behind golden trails of sunlight. Their well-worn paths between Lordran and oblivion became a barrier five hundred layers thick. She laughed.

"It's been a pleasure. Truly."

She waited as the outermost Knight's orbit brought him onto the path, then with a quick thrust, ran her wicked talons through his spirit. Dark dyed his soul, spreading from her nails through his transparent body like bleeding ink. Soon, his soul burst from the contamination, and his blessed path faded away.

"Five-hundred Black Knight ghosts on the stairs. Five-hundred ghosts on the stairs. Take one down, without a sound. Four-hundred ninety-nine Black Knight ghosts on the stairs."

She quirked her head back. Something was moving on the ash. The Chosen Undead was in his second combat, and his own "faithful knights" had succumbed to dreams of their true fates. Only the child of another world could possibly escape the illusion, and that didn't seem to be the case. Had another Knight survived and lain in wait for her to reveal herself?

"Take this!"

The goddess' ashen legs burst out from under her. Shocked, she plummeted a short distance before she caught herself and formed an entirely new body a short distance away.

"Did I do it? I beat the bad guy! Uncle Ornstein's going to be so proud!"

A child. Where did it come from? What was it that it possessed no fate? A whirlwind of questions plagued the wicked deity, but a smile crept across her face.

"Well, hello there! That wasn't very nice, you know!"

"You're not very nice! And you smell like birds!"

An "Uncle Ornstein" and a keen sense of smell. The blue eyes and silver-gold hair. Dressed all in blue and holding two wooden swords. The Wolf and the Hornet. An unexpected life, outside the pattern of fate she had witnessed so many times.

"Well, I worked with your parents and both your uncles. Surely, you've heard of Lord Gwyn? I was someone very dear to him."

"Dad says that Lord Gwyn needed your help, so you forced him to screw you and then left him with the baby when you didn't want it, and then Mom says that he shouldn't be talking like that around me, and then they fight, and then I have to go play with Uncle Gough while they 'make up.'"

Velka took a deep breath.

"Well, aren't you a precocious little firebrand?"

"Flattening won't help you, bad guy! I'm five years old now, and I know all your tricks!"

The Raven's interest in the disruption of the cycle was rapidly giving way to bloodlust.

"Why don't we just talk-?"

A surprisingly skilled slash took her legs out from under her again, but this time, she didn't retreat. Her body simply reformed in place, and she stepped forward menacingly.

"Bad girls get sent to bed without dinner!" she hissed as she sprayed soot at the child.

The girl staggered on her feet as the spell began to take hold, but she gnashed her teeth and hacked at the goddess again. This time, Velka was more than ready, and the wooden blades only cut halfway through. The artificial flesh repaired itself in a flash, trapping the toy weapons. She took another step forward, unaware that her smile had gone from pleasant to murderous. The girl ran, and the Raven instinctively chased after her.

Velka quickly fluttered to a stop before making a costly mistake. How cute. The child had stopped on the first step. Had the witch lunged after her, she would have crashed headfirst into the Black Knights' barriers. Well, even the Wolf had his moments.

"Little girl, little girl, won't you come out of there to play?"

"No! You're evil, and now I can't even fight you!"

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. I guess I'll just have to play with Mommy and Daddy."

Soot fluttered in her hand like crows' wings until it became a razor-thin black knife.

"Just keep in mind – I play for keeps."

The girl growled but held her ground. As Velka drew nearer to her insensate parents, she began to whimper and hopped from one foot to the other anxiously. By the time the goddess had drawn the tiny Ciaran from the ash and held the blade to her neck, the child was covered in tears and snot but still hadn't left her spot.

"I must say, they're much better at child-rearing than I. Well, not that it matters anymore, with this body."

Though Ciaran's paltry number of souls would have been better sacrificed to the Kiln than taken for herself, it – like the woman herself – was a small matter. The goddess started to make the stroke but stopped when another unexpected noise disturbed her. Passing through the Knights' barriers without harm was a knight in gleaming bronze armor. As the child looked up to him with hope in her eyes, he gently pushed her face-first down the stairs.

"Goddess Velka!" his raspy voice called out, laughing wickedly. "How about we strike a deal?"

"Knight Lautrec," she said evenly. "You passed over the borders of Lordran some time ago. I had been too preoccupied to notice you returned."

She dropped Ciaran casually and approached the holy champion as he lifted the snarling, crying girl by the back of her tunic.

"What could you offer me…" she hummed, "…that I could not simply _take_?"

"Oh, _I'll_ be the one taking," Lautrec quipped back suggestively.

Velka grinned and rolled her hips as she approached.

"Really? Well, I'm sure we can work _something _out."

There was only the sound of the child kicking at Lautrec's greaves as Velka grew close enough to hear the knight breathe. As she reached to remove his helm, he put one arm around her. There was a metallic clash, and the child's screams grew further away. Lautrec now had the goddess' body pinned against his breastplate, the decorative arms at his waist. The twin shotels shot up and hooked around either side of Velka's neck.

In a flash, her head rolled off and hit the ground before the girl did. It burst into a vortex of soot and ash as the body crumbled. Jacquelyn rolled to a stop next to her unconscious parents just as Velka reformed, her full attention now on the knight.

"I should have expected nothing less of such a consummate traitor," she cawed.

"Traitor? Hmph. There is no one more faithful."

Disturbance after disturbance after disturbance – yet another walked down the stairs.

"_Now, rumors circulate about an Undead who traveled to Lordran, in pilgrimage. A prophet from a distant land, who chastened the gods for their sloth… and coveted the power of Chaos._"


	61. Velk-a cappella

"Fina."

What is "fateful beauty"? The woman who descended the stairs stood outside of time or perhaps in all times. To Velka, she was ancient and wrinkled but with burning eyes; to her lusty champion Lautrec, a maiden in the flower of youth; to young Jacquelyn, the first person her own age she had ever seen. The goddess wore unassuming robes of silk that shifted color with the light, gold to silver to bronze to gray. When her hair wasn't white with age, it was a golden-brown that fell about her shoulders in elegant curls.

"I didn't think you had the courage to face me!" Velka crowed. "You've spent how many years hiding behind your knight, droning endlessly about our prophecy coming to pass?"

"You speak the truth," the second goddess said, leaving footprints of different sizes in the ash as she approached. "But when one is summoned by a hero fated to have died long ago, such things lose their meaning."

"Look around you. Fate is quite easily enforced. Even the false fate of the Chosen Undead. If you value your life at all, you'll march right back up those sealed stairs before he Links the Flame. He's no Gwyn, but you're no me, either."

Fina nodded and gave a knowing smile.

"There are few who could survive being trapped within the Kiln when it is first lit. Your powers are great indeed. But the dreams of fate you give are mere lies. The smallest glimmer can illuminate the darkness you cast."

Velka's eyes went wide, and she turned to lunge at Jacquelyn. Lautrec was one step ahead and slashed at her. The body of ash and soot exploded into a murder of crows and beat past him, buffeting him with their wings as they passed. Any bird that the knight cut down only split into two more, and the witch-goddess reformed a distance behind him, unharmed.

"Allow me to show you how to use a knife, traitor."

Ciaran's tracers flashed as she rushed forward in a flurry of motion, gently moving her daughter out of the way as she rose from the ash. With a flourish, she swept the blades up Velka's torso, then back down the shoulders to sever the tendons. Such an attack had little effect on the body of dust, but the Raven was forced to retreat to escape the continuing flurry. As she stepped back, the ash crunched and the air whistled. Her next step moved only half her body as Artorias' flying somersault cleanly bisected her.

"Ciaran, get the Captain! We need his lightning!" the knight barked as he spun to cut the halves of the witch again in half.

Again, the black soot burst away in the shape of crows.

"The Four Knights?" they crooned. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, you know."

Each of the four clouds of writhing crows constructed a body of ash, and Velka spoke in four-part harmony with herself.

"Throw all you have at me! All of Gwyn's might couldn't end my life!"

Now, Sif rushed through, hacking cleanly through the duplicates. As the bodies fell, they grew new legs, and new bodies grew from the legs that remained standing. Eight Velkas smirked and applauded sarcastically.

"I see," Ornstein rumbled. "Had I known I would have become so mighty, I would have slain Smough before we left Anor Londo. You've shown me something something interesting, traitor. But you have cast your last illusion. Prepare yourself!"

Despite his words, the Lion bolted forward without hesitation. He caught two of the witch's bodies on the end of his spear and raised it high, black lightning arcing from the base of the shaft to the dark sky above. The doppelgangers exploded with the roaring thunder, but the soot yet still drifted down from the blade to reform into a single Velka that hung suggestively over the side of the weapon.

"Even this is no use…" Ornstein growled as he swept his spear to wrench her free.

"Perhaps mine accursed power will finally findeth purpose, then," Priscilla said as she stood beside him.

She vanished, but her footprints were unmistakable in the endless ash. One of the Velkas simply sprayed her with soot, leaving her coughing and quite visible. As the copy reached for her, a massive ball of soul power curved around and vaporized it. As the others closed in, a volley of crude spears drove holes through several of them. Gwyndolin sidewinded across the ash alongside Gough, trying to look nonchalant.

"Misunderstand not. What sort of ruler would I be if I allow my subject to be harmed in front of mineself?"

Now, three Velkas remained, the soot from the fallen taking the form of crows and seating upon the shoulders of those remaining.

"Is that all the gods can muster? You can no more harm me than you can the earth or the sea. Vainglorious fools that you are, you've done nothing to stop the Chosen Undead. Can you feel it? He enters the firebox now."

Now that he was aware, Artorias' keen ears couldn't miss the sound of a fog gate giving way.

"Honeybee, get Quelaag next!"

Yet as the forces of Anor Londo struggled against the Raven-Haired Witch, the fog rippled again.

"Consider my debt repaid," Lautrec sneered as he walked up alongside Artorias.

The Kiln's innermost chamber was barren, save the last remnants of the melted pillars, which were little more than piles of misshapen stone strewn about the floor. In the center of the chamber stood the first Lord of Cinder alone. Where the former Lord of Sunlight had once towered above all but the mightiest of giants, his body had dwindled to the size of his Knights. His regal robes were black with soot, and his wild hair and beard dripped with white ash. Upon his head rested a melted crown, and gripped furiously in his hand was a sword burning black.

Before Lex could take in the sight, the decrepit old god lunged forward and swept at him. He rolled under the attack and struck back. The Lord moaned like a feral hollow as the blade tore at his side and swung wildly. Lex again rolled under the attack, taking a few steps back. Suddenly, the fog began to shift.

He looked away for only a moment, and the burning sword cut into his own torso. He cringed and quickly rolled away, ducking behind one of the smelted pillars.

"What just happened? Where's my Estus Flask?"

He watched with quirked eyebrows as an elite knight passed through the fog.

"What? Is that another player? It's not a phantom. What's going on?"

The Lord of Cinder abandoned his cowering prey and turned to face this new intruder. A mighty overhead slash fell upon the knight like the setting sun. There was an ear-shattering clang, and the ruined king of the gods was thrown back. The knight walked forward slowly, reverently, and ran his Black Knight sword through Gwyn's chest. The Lord jumped back quickly, taking the weapon with him, but the knight casually drew Ricard's rapier and paced after him.

Gwyn charged again, swinging wildly, but his enormous blade bounced off the crest shield like a pinball off a bumper. Unbalanced again, the Lord couldn't react in time for the knight to run the second sword through him. Again, the hollowed god fled, now at the far end of the chamber. The knight at last drew his Astora straight sword. This time, the Lord understood that wild swinging would be no use and instead tried to grab the shield from the knight's arm.

As he gripped the human, the knight changed his stance and twisted his body. Gwyn fell forward and was flung overhead. Before he could process what had happened, the knight whirled about and jabbed the third sword into his chest. The Lord of Cinder howled, and the knight pressed the blade harder. He struggled for one last time, then his arms fell limply to either side.

His left hand dragged through the ash to reach to his cragged forehead. He fumbled clumsily, then at last removed his crown. His souls were already leaking, but now they began to pour out.

"In…heriteth… the Fire… of our world…"

At last, the remainder of Gwyn's souls poured out, and only what remained of his Lord Soul was left, illuminating the darkened chamber more than even the smoldering bonfire at its center. The knight sheathed his three swords and slung his shield on his back before taking the Soul gingerly in one hand.

"It's over, Lex," he said solemnly. "Come on. We've got to help the others."

"What?" the cleric asked, puzzled, as he circled around the melted pillar. "Who are you? How do you know my name? How did Gwyn _talk_?"

"I see," the knight said. "Even you were forced to dream of your fated death. You were to sacrifice yourself to the Flame."

"Well, I figure that's the easiest way of getting back home," Lex said, shrugging. "I take it you woke up in the Asylum too? You aiming for the Dark Lord ending, then?"

The knight shook his head as he approached.

"Of course not. I am Oscar of Astora. My fate was to die in the Asylum. The guardian demon had broken most of my ribs in our first encounter, and I feared I would never defeat it."

"Oscar? But how? I saw you… I saw you…"

"In your own words, 'shut up and drink your Estus.'"

Before Lex could react, Oscar had shoved the glowing flask into his face. The cleric gagged, choking on the burning liquid as it splashed up his nose and into the back of his throat.

"You're a… dick…" he coughed.

"Back to normal?"

"Yeah."

"Lucky you. I woke up to find myself face-to-face with that murderer. He and his goddess are 'helping.' Velka's tough, though. Doesn't look like anyone was able to inflict any real damage."

Oscar turned his head to the fog gate.

"Any reason that's still up?"

"The designers wanted a stronger ending and cut out the post-endgame. Either you set yourself on Fire or you condemn the world to Darkness. One hell of a surprise in any case. We might actually be stuck in here if we don't want the latter."

"By the Lords…" Oscar grumbled.

"On the plus side, I just realized that swearing like that now invokes me."

"Lex!"

Before Oscar could complain, Quelaag swung down from above. Seeing Oscar, she relaxed.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason."

She softened.

"Really, thank you."

The knight shook his head.

"Anyone would have done the same. How goes the battle?"

Quelaag crossed her arms.

"It's hard to keep track of the bodies, and she hasn't even used all her tricks yet. She's keeping the pressure up so that no one can make an opportunity for the crossbreed. We don't even know if the Lifehunt will work or if Velka just wants us to think it will."

"A tricky situation."

There was a brief silence.

"Old man Gwyn is finally gone, I see."

Oscar nodded but said nothing.

"Then there is nothing left to do here. Let's hurry back."

"Actually, we might be stuck in here," Lex said quickly. "It's hard to tell how far the mechanics extend at this point. I'm betting on strict rules, though. There's probably a trigger covering the doorway that won't activate if we climb over."

"I don't know the consequences for leaving, but I'll trust in your judgment, consort mine. Hop on."

Lex grabbed her waist and swung himself up onto her back.

"Wait," he said. "How are we going to get Oscar up, what with all the being on fire?"

"I will stay here," the knight said plainly. "I didn't like the sound of leaving the Kiln triggering the end of the world to begin with. This way, at least one person is left to Link the Fire if worst comes to worst."

Lex frowned.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to throw myself in. Anastacia only knows how to write 'cake' and 'party.' What a disgrace it would be for me to leave before she could finish a sentence."

"Fine, fine," Lex grumbled. "Here, take this."

He rummaged through his bag and threw the horrifying, writhing mass of humanity that was Manus' Soul at Oscar. The knight almost dropped it, then almost dropped Gwyn's Soul, at last holding one in either hand.

"So I was thinking that if humanity is used to kindle bonfires and restore our false forms, then why does everyone keep using regular souls to restart the First Flame? I mean, using more fire to restart a fading fire is stupid. That's not how fire works at all! You need to add more fuel."

"Leave it to the prophet to call the last sacrifice of the Lord of Sunlight stupid."

"In the immortal words of Pierce Washington, 'I ain't saying, I'm just saying!' Anyway, I'll catch you later. Quelaag – up, up, and away!"


	62. This story is starting to dragon

ANOR LONDO

Smough wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his meaty hand. Even without the fatsuit, he was a behemoth of a man, a demigod as broad as a giant, if quite a bit shorter. Now that he'd eaten the last of the Silver Knights and tied up that pesky immortal Fire Keeper, the city of the gods was his and his alone – at least until Velka got back. In the meantime, he would do whatever he pleased with it. What that meant was ignoring Ornstein's constant preaching about decorum and boarding up all the damned broken windows, because those cathedrals got entirely too drafty for his tastes.

Holding a reasonably-sized hammer for the first time in centuries, he was hard at work repairing the damage of that last fight in the grand hall. It had been a simple enough manner to send some of the Darkmoon Blades down to Darkroot for wood. They stayed out of sight when he didn't need them, though he occasionally heard that Easterner orgasming over a new sword, and the one in the tophat had mad fits of laughter. Still, he was finally able to relax, for which he was long overdue after working side by side with the very embodiment of duty and honor for several hundred years. He had stopped for a moment to take a sip from a chalice made from the skulls of previous Chosen Undead, when he noticed a ripple through his wine.

A moment later, and the whole building shook as a tremendous gust of wind swept over it. A deafening roar rattled the broken glass. Smough quickly looked out one of the unpatched holes and found himself looking into the glaring eye of a dragon.

"_WHILE THE LION IS AWAY, THE RATS WILL PLAYETH, I SEE._"

Havel's enormous arm swept through the glass and stone like water, taking out an enormous swathe of wall as he grabbed the traitor.

"_UNFORTUNATELY FOR THEE, SERPENTS LIKEWISE ENJOYETH THE TASTE OF RODENT._"

The dragon took a deep breath and unleashed a torrent of white smoke. It rolled over the demigod's unarmored body, stripping away the flesh until there was nothing remaining but pitted bones. He cast the body to the darkened streets below and climbed to the top of the keep, each step cracking the marble with the strength of his grip.

"_MARCHEST FORTH, MY CHILDREN! PURGEST THIS CITY OF THOSE WHO WORSHIPETH DARK! CLEANSEST THE HALLS OF THOSE WHO WOULD TURNETH THEE TO MINDLESS HOLLOWS AND TWISTED BEASTS IN THE WRETCHED AGE OF MAN!_"

A ramshackle army of Undead swarmed into the city, through the passage or over the walls, some walking and others flying. All were in various stages of metamorphosis between humanoid shape and Havel's draconic transformation. Stone scales scavenged from the fallen studded their flesh, draining it of life but granting a soulless strength. Some were so far gone that they'd abandoned armor and weapons entirely, scaling the impenetrable walls of the city with their claws and half-grown wings.

"_Mmm. As if the Age of Gods were any better. Too much of sound and fury. I'd prefer the madness of life to be quiet as the grave, if you don't mind._"

Bones crunched and ground below as something slunk through the shadowy streets.

"_SHOWEST THYSELF, THAT I MIGHT SHOW THEE THINE ERROR!_"

"_No._"

"_THOU MOCKEST ME?!_"

"_Yes._"

As the swiftest of the dragon Covenant reached the rotating bridge, a shadow darted up and into the pale light of the Darkmoon. The Black Dragon swept several Undead to their deaths and belched his black flame down the road to bowl over several more before jumping back down into the pitch-black streets below. By now, the Blades of the Darkmoon were rallying to mount a defense. The Stone Dragon snorted and bounded after the last of his ancient enemies while his servants charged the other way, up the enormous staircase. Below, the abandoned city exploded as the enormous stone juggernaut plowed through buildings in pursuit of his enemy.

Kalameet's streamlined, lithe body made slipping through the streets a simple matter. He kept his wings pinned to his sides as he flowed over and around the buildings, ducking through narrow side streets and vanishing around corners. For Havel, who was much larger and unused to moving in his dragon form, each step crushed an irreplaceable piece of the lost city. He barely fit on the main roads as it was, and he kept relaxing his wings unconsciously, cleaving the roofs off buildings on either side of him.

"_How long have I wished to destroy Anor Londo. A shame you'll beat me to it._"

Havel responded with a roar so powerful that it shattered the windows of half the buildings still standing. The shockwave shook the Black Dragon from his latest perch, causing him to instinctively take to the air. Catching sight of his foe at last, the Stone Dragon thundered forward and hurled his enormous weight through the air like a catapult. Kalameet quickly contorted his body in the air and slipped away, but Havel grabbed the end of his long, sinuous tail and dragged him along. As the Rock touched down, he threw himself forward, slamming the other dragon overhead into the pavement like his trusty hammer.

Kalameet bounced, then curled about to face the bishop, focusing his one red eye on him intensely. The horrible whine of his psychic might singed the back of Havel's mind as even his impossibly heavy body was lifted effortlessly into the air. The Stone Dragon fought to move, to unleash his breath attack, but he was utterly paralyzed by the telekinetic force.

"_My, how droll. You lesser things always thought the dragons mindless brutes. Funny indeed that the human to join our number is exactly that._"

As he dropped Havel, Kalameet unleashed a torrent of black flame. The fire rushed over the Stone Dragon, covering him in inky Darkness before at last, the other dragon paused to catch his breath.

"_IS THAT ALL?_"

Forgetting for a moment that he was a quadrupedal lizard, Havel rose up on his hind legs and punched the Black Dragon in the snout, knocking Kalameet to the ground. He lost his balance and fell back into a sitting position quickly, but he didn't stop, leaning forward over his fallen foe and continuing to pummel him.

"_He's riiiiiight, you know._"

An all-too-familiar sound like the chirping of cicadas echoed in the back of the dragons' minds.

"_Personal matters aside, I'm vvvvvvery interested in how you managed to change youssself and all these Undead into such forms, dear bishop. Myyyyy attempt produced only the maaaanserpents. While they are useful, they aaaare hardly dragons._"

"_So the betrayer makes his appearance at last!_"

"_TRAITOR!_"

"_It's good to knooooow I am loved. But I willlll __**Havel**__ you know, bishop – I had no haaaand in these foolish plots of Velka's. Asiiiide from framing you, of course. I got caught anyway, soooo I suppose that was for naught in the ennnnnd._"

Seath hovered over the fight, his insectile wings buzzing with a high-pitched whine as they strained to keep his crystal-covered body aloft.

"_GWYN TRUSTED YOU! YOU BETRAYED HIM TIME AND AGAIN, YET HE SHIELDED YOU FROM MY WRATH AT EVERY TURN! NO MORE!_"

Havel twisted his body and stomped Kalameet one last time as he launched himself through the air toward the Scaleless. Though the Paledrake's tiny, flickering wings suggested agility, his reaction speed was exceedingly poor. The pair of dragons tumbled through the air before destroying several city blocks in their tangled landing. The Stone Dragon snapped at the other's throat, but the mutant's meaty tentacles wrung about his neck. As they struggled, the Black Dragon took to the air and blazed past them, bathing them in black flame before vanishing into the darkened ruins.

"_Should you not ffffocus on the gods' longtime enemy?_"

"_AREN'T I?_"

Seath writhed as the cold Dark ate away at him while Havel seemed unperturbed as even the end of his broken horn sizzled.

"_THE DRAGON OF CALAMITY HATH SURVIVED BY FLEEING ALWAYS. HE WATH NOT PROVOKED FOR FEAR OF THE LOSSES. WHAT LOSS CAN THERE BEETH IN THIS LOST CITY? MY FOLLOWERS ARE ABOMINATIONS; I CARE NOT FOR THEIR LIVES. YOU._

_YOU ARE THE GREATER DANGER. GWYN DARED NOT TRULY PROVOKE YOUR IRE, EVEN WHEN YOU MADE A MONSTER OF HIS YOUNGEST. I CANNOT KILL YOU YET, BUT I CAN BREAK YOU, AND THIS WRETCHED FORM WILL ALLOWETH ME TO DO SO AS MANY TIMES NEED BE DONE!_"

Seath's half-formed legs were powerful, but even the Rock's neck was mighty. He ripped free and lunged forward just as the Paledrake exhaled a blast of sorcerous energy. The power of magic was nothing to the Stone Dragon, and a curse of stone was less than that. Still, the blast was overpoweringly brilliant at point-blank range, and as the larger dragon flinched, Seath lashed his tentacles and slipped free. Havel blindly unleashed his own breath, tracing a line of destruction across what few buildings were left standing nearby.

The Black Dragon tried to hide amidst the rubble as he fled, but each time, Seath's eyeless soul sight located him. A strange pursuit began: Seath chasing Kalameet and Havel chasing Seath. While the Scaleless was obviously the weakest link, he made up for it with cleverness, directing Havel's beams into Kalameet and causing the former to create new paths through the ruins or block off others. When the dust cleared, the three found themselves in a roughly circular arena.

"_Like puppets,_" Seath giggled with his cicada-laugh.

"_I merely allowed myself to be entrapped. That pursuit had grown so tiresome. Do you truly believe I cannot destroy you both?_"

"_AS IF EITHER OF YOU COULDST BEST ME IN A FAIR FIGHT._"

So they said, but not one moved. Kalameet's head bobbed back and forth as he looked toward one and then the other with his singular leering eye. Seath seemed perfectly relaxed, able to observe the flow of souls animating both their bodies. Havel maintained a stoney countenance, glancing either direction without turning his head.

"_Is this a staring contest, gentlemen?_" Kalameet chided. "_I believe I'm certain to win, and certain one of you loses by default._"

"_BIG WORDS FROM A BIG BAT._"

"_One of us is not immortal, so hurrrrrry it along, you two._"

At last, one of them moved. Havel started toward the Black Dragon, causing Kalameet to rear back and focus his telekinesis defensively. It was a feint, however, as the Stone Dragon twisted and lunged at Seath. His great claws tore into the defenseless ivory flesh as the Paledrake unleashed a blast of soul force. It blazed over Havel's shoulder and tore into the immobile Kalameet's wing, causing it to crust over with dull crystals.

With another roar that could be heard throughout the city, Havel at last put an end to his ancient foe, tearing the Scaleless' head from its body. He gave a snort of victory and quickly wheeled around to unleash his breath of white fog on the grounded Black Dragon. Kalameet crashed into a ruined building at the edge of the ring, rising unevenly on three legs.

"H_old on there, old enemy. I know I'm not in any position to ask a favor of you, but I must. You've beaten the real threat, haven't you? Killing me would mean total genocide. Now, I'm sure that you as a hero of Light and justice and truth and all that wouldn't commit such an act of-_"

The Rock didn't wait for the Black Dragon to finish. Mistakes may have been made in the killing of other dragons. Killing these two was obvious. He crushed the fallen lizard's ribs, then grabbed him by the tail. With a spinning swing, he whipped the limp body overhead and into the debris with enough force to rip the tail from it.

As the Obsidian Greatsword clattered to the broken marble and the ruinous Dragon of Calamity at last dissolved into his animating souls, Havel turned to face the remains of the other ancient menace of Anor Londo. Surprisingly, even Seath's body was beginning to fade away, though it seemed he was forestalling the end through force of will.

"_So this is death. Hhhhhow intriguing._"

Havel frowned. After having been denied any direct confrontation with his archenemy for so long, he should have been elated at finally slaying the manipulative beast. But this distinctly felt like a loss.

"YOU_ COULDST HAVE ATTACKED ME. KALAMEET WOULDETH HAVE STRUCK FROM BEHIND. I AM CONFIDENT I WOULD HAVE EMERGED VICTORIOUS, BUT YOU ART NOT SO SHORTSIGHTED NOR SO VALOROUS AS TO GIVEST ME SUCH ADVANTAGE AS YOU DIDST._"

"M_y dear bishop, you were allllways one step behind. I llllong regretted eliminating you. No othhhher dared challenge me. Our gaaaames must recess for a lifetime, I'mmmm afraid. I gave my crystal to wwwwonderful young lady._

_So I'm afraid thiiiiis is the last of the too-proud dragons. Worry not, enemyyyy mine! I have created a soul for myselffffff. I will be reborn now eternally, annnn inextricable part of the cycle. Do look for me, dear Havel. IIIIII'm sure you'll find me after an atrocity or two!"_

The severed head cracked a wicked grin and loosed its horrible laughter one last time as its component souls dispersed. Havel snarled and stomped where it had been a moment earlier before taking to the skies. His duel-crazed abomination army initially had difficulty with working cohesively, but there was nothing like the silent, mocking gestures of Velka's following to band men together. Some arbiter spirits were still invading, but many had grow tired of constant deaths, and those there in person had been slaughtered to the point of hollowing or driven out of the city.

Not that there was much of it left, the Stone Dragon noted as he looked down on the wreckage caused by his own battle. Still, the Great Lord's keep was mostly intact. That alone really mattered, that the seat of divine guidance was restored to its rightful owner in time for the lighting of the Flame. The bishop circled over the palace, gritting his teeth at the thought of it being occupied by a _dragon_, even if it was himself. At last, he alighted upon the short plaza before the great gates.

They'd been thrown open by the attackers, and the entry hall was full of hollowed corpses. What had caught his eye, however, had been a small black thing hiding behind the veneer beneath a broken window. He snorted, bowling over the crouching survivor. The small, pathetic man quickly hopped to his feet pretended as if nothing was wrong.

"Oh, uh, good day! You seem to be in charge now! You and all your dragon fellows! Children? Me, I love children, helped raise my sister while Mum was out working nights, if you catch my drift!

I'm terribly sorry for any harm I might have caused them! It was an honest mistake! You think you've finally found stable employment for yourself with a group of like-minded individuals, and suddenly you find out they're all part of a conspiracy to control the world from the shadows! I admit I have done you wrong, and I will do my damnedist to make it up to you! Now, it looks to me like you're going to need a lot of materials and labor to clean up this mess!

Don't you worry your pretty little head – or your giant, powerful, masculine dragon head of death and destruction, if you don't mind my saying! Normally, you'd be in quite the bind, but never fear – Trusty Patches is here! That's right – owner and founder of Patches' Marvelous Marble Masons! I'll have you right as rain within the decade! We just need to go over a few troublesome, minor little details…"


	63. Slaanesh's other sacred number

KILN OF THE FIRST FLAME

By now, the battle had spread throughout the ashen dunes. Fina had quickly taken over for Ciaran, who had been having a much harder time awakening the others. It was one thing to rouse Quelaag, who hated even the sound of her voice; it was quite another to stir the magical slumber of humans who had never met her. The true goddess of fate had no such trouble. She simply whispered in their ears how each of their destinies had changed.

One by one, they remembered how Lex had saved them, and soon, they joined in against the seemingly limitless number of Ravens. Only pyromancy seemed to slow Velka's regeneration, but she shied away from Nito and Priscilla altogether. If anything, it looked like she was forced to split her attention among all her duplicates, and soon, only the copies closest to those two posed any real danger. Spread thin as her black soot was, the majority of her bodies were armed only with their black talons. Against the much longer weapons and magic of those she faced, they were of little use.

Solaire found little use for his shield and ran one dupe through while hurling a bolt at another some distance away. Siegmeyer and Sieglinde fought back-to-back as a whirlwind, their zweihanders able to clear through a crowd of the fragile copies in a single swing. Beatrice had an even easier time, looking on the battle from above as she rained dark orbs without care for how close she came to hitting the others. On the ground, Quelana and Laurentius wove the largest firestorm since the last battle against the dragons, except without the madness of Dark or Chaos, they were able to direct their flames away from their allies. As the inferno grew to fill the battlefield, the crows made from the soot of fallen Velkas began to gather in one place.

"Well, enough of that," one copy said, throwing her arms wide.

The others exploded, and the birds rushed into her body, splattering like ink as the outfit grayed from spreading too thin turned to pitch black. There seemed to be more crows than ever, and still more alighted on her arms without joining her.

"I wasn't feared for cheap magician's tricks…isn't that right, children?"

Soot that had gone unseen in the sea of ash swirled about. Countless hands formed in the powder, rising like a waterspout. They grabbed at Priscilla and Gwyndolin before crashing down into the dust, smothering the pair as they struggled to get free. Velka wasted no time in leaping over the crowd to reach the pyromancer duo, drawing a long black razor from the palm of her hand. Laurentius shoved Quelana out of the way and blocked the attack with his undying body, though he nearly fainted from the sight of his blood spraying across the ash.

Velka danced out of the way of Quelana's Great Combustion and lunged forward for a counterattack, only to be caught in a pillar of Quelaav's golden barrier flame. She screamed as the sunfire blasted her body to dust, whirling away as a vortex of crows. They perched atop one of the slagged pillars before her form restored itself using the ash below.

"Quite an accurate copy you've got there. I thought I was dying again for a moment. Your mother would be proud. A shame even Gwyn's flame couldn't finish me off."

She threw her arms wide again – only this time, they kept going and going. They stretched to an invisible thinness before falling into the dunes and raising a tide of ash, sweeping the group toward the great firepit. Quelaav quickly formed a wall to stop the others from falling to their deaths in the gorge while Beatrice guarded her with a shadowy wall of distorted space. Velka simply grinned as the surf changed direction, a sudden rush of ash driving up and throwing the group back toward her. Only the two flying witches were safe from the attack, and while evading erupting geysers aimed directly at them, they were unable to retaliate.

The quiet sound of bare feet against stone could hardly be made out over the roar of the waves, so it came as a complete surprise to everyone when the upper half of Velka's body arced through the air and into the dust. At last, the churning ash came to a stop, and those half buried quickly dug themselves out. Priscilla suddenly appeared atop one of the melted pillars, the glassy stone having done nothing to give away her position. Several of the skeletons comprising Nito's body applauded as he used his main hands to remove his head and shake the ash out.

"Clever girl!" Velka cawed as she stood on new legs of ash while her old legs of soot became crows and alighted on her shoulders. "Were my body not in such a state, that would have surely slain me. Unfortunately, a blade can hardly cut that which is already in tatters. It was fun watching you hope, though."

"If not a blade, then perhaps this is more apropos," Nito hummed as he raised his hands.

With the others finally separated from Velka, there was nothing in his way. A cold breeze blew across the dust, scattering only the lightest of flakes. The Raven quickly took flight, batting the ill wind back with black wings, but as she rose, she found she was not alone.

"I'll kill you and take your title!" Beatrice laughed madly as she unleashed an arcing bolt of darkness at point blank range.

Velka's body exploded, stunned crows spiraling out of the air. Gwyndolin unleashed a volley of homing soul masses at the birds, and they popped like confetti. As the pieces drifted toward the ground, Nito stirred one finger, and they floated back upward before decaying into nothingness in his invisible miasma. For a moment, no one dared move.

"What a terrible opponent," Solaire said at last, chuckling nervously as he broke the silence. "Good work, everyone."

Suddenly, a black spike erupted from the sun on his chest.

"Yes, good work. It takes a dedicated audience to believe an illusionist is truly dead."

Velka, who had simply appeared from nowhere rather than reforming herself, kicked the knight over as she ripped her sword out his back.

"Did you think I would fight you fairly?" she scoffed as she dug her dagger-like heel into Solaire's wound.

Siegmeyer and Sieglinde moved to either side of her, zweihanders held defensively.

"Like this?"

Velka turned one way and the other at the same time, splitting in two. Both copies lunged into a flurry of strikes, causing the Catarinans to sling their shields around defensively. At last, the onslaught ended, and the knights swung their blades overhanded. The Velkas grinned and swept the swords aside easily, following up with a deadly riposte on both sides.

"You all attack in obvious patterns. It takes nothing but patience to learn how to unravel them. Believe me, I've had a _long _time to study."

Artorias and Sif ran along either side of the copies, slashing through them in an inescapable as Quelaav swooped in to rescue the injured. Velka's raucous laughter merely echoed at a distance, her crows rebuilding her atop one of the pillars.

"You are all mere slaves to the Flame. It blinds you to your flaws and to its own. Only little miss ego trip had the slightest inkling of freedom, but with that shard of Gwyn's Soul, she is now as bound as the rest. Even if there is betrayal in your heart, you make it plain as day with melodramatic laughter and preemptive admissions of the crime. The illusion of free will you now possess exists solely because the so-called prophet intervened in your preordained fates.

Every effort you make against me is because I summoned him here, because I _allow_ you to fight against me. Yet even placing your hope in him is futile. Now that he's taken a Great Soul, he too is part of this world and bound by Flame's order. I couldn't have asked for a better pawn."

"Can't I be a bishop? That keeps the chess theme while also showing that I'm a cleric."

Velka's ashen body distorted as an ear-rending bass wub ran over her, but she didn't so much as flinch. Lex landed next to Kirk as Quelaag flew overhead like a jumping spider. She raced up the stairs out of the Kiln without looking back while her husband grinned smugly.

"It's the final countdown! Doo doodoo doo! Doodoodoo doodoo! Doo doodoo doo! Doodoodoo doodoo doodoo! Doo doodoo doo! Doodoodoo doodoo! Doo doodoo doo! Doodoodoo doodoo doodoo! Doodoodoo doodoodoo doodoo doodoo doo doooooo doo dooooo doodoo! Oh! We're heading for-!"

Velka churned her sword exhaustedly through his gut.

"That's enough of that," she sighed.

"Would you have…" Lex choked, "…preferred…_We Are the Champions_?"

"Lex!" Kirk grunted, hammering his elbow into the goddess' side.

She swept her claws at him, but he twisted his body unnaturally to avoid it before using the torque to drive his barbed sword through her own abdomen.

"Please," Lex chuckled, "call me Alexander Anderson."

Twisted vines knitted themselves across his torn midsection before changing color and binding together so tightly as to be indistinguishable from human flesh. More such vines snaked out around Velka's sword, trapping it in his body and racing up to grab her arm.

"You're full of surprises, it seems," she mused. "I'll make a note for the next cycle."

Sword and body alike erupted into crows. No matter how quickly the vines lashed around them, they simply split into smaller birds and flitted away.

"It's good to have you back, Lex," Siegmeyer said as he and Lin joined the Chaos consorts. "But as you can see, we've run flat up against a wall. Or an immortal ash monster, as the case happens to be."

"If there's a wall in our way, we smash it down! If there isn't a path, we carve one out ourselves! Say it with me, aniki!"

Kirk stared without reacting as the prophet looked at him expectantly.

"Okay, fine, we'll discuss gattai later. We get to shout about magma and things that drill into your head. Totally up Chaos' alley. Seriously, though, show some spirit."

"Spirit is nice and all," Lin complained, "but a plan would be better."

"Who said I didn't have a plan?"

"Oh. I'm sorry-"

"Everyone attack!"

Beatrice didn't need to be told twice. Beams of monochrome energy swept the ash, and a stream of homing orbs whisked over the dunes in patient pursuit of the goddess, who found herself on the defensive for the first time. When at last, the onslaught began to lull, a barrage of flaming greatarrows caused the dust to explode around her, Laurentius lighting them as quickly as Gough could shoot. So distracted, she hardly noticed as Artorias and Ornstein crashed down from above and Ciaran rose from beneath the ash. Her crows quickly flitted away, only to be stunned by a bass blast and torn apart by the cartwheeling Knight of Thorns.

She almost laughed as she revealed that was an illusion, but Solaire's lightning spear knocked the breath out of her. She quickly threw up a curtain of ash to conceal herself, but now even crippled Nito had the time to approach, tearing through the wall with his deadly greatsword. A storm of crows followed her as she was forced back, Priscilla's footprints following her. Furious, she lashed out at the invisible pursuer, but Gwyndolin smirked and shook his head. The prints in front of her vanished, and another set appeared to her side just as the crossbreed's scythe flashed into view.

Velka's head hurtled through the air before her whole body dispersed once more. She reappeared to strike at Quelaav, who'd been avoiding direct confrontation, but Sieglinde's zweihander dispersed her body before it could even finish assembling. As the goddess reappeared, a pair of Priscillas charged her from either side, each leaving a trail of footprints. In a flash, she'd run through both of them with swords of black soot, but the true attack came from behind, the crossbreed half-freezing her mother with her father's crystal breath. Unable to react quickly, the illusions revealed their true forms as unstable soul masses, bursting from her attacks.

A thousand crows screamed bloody murder as the witch-goddess swept up much of the ash into a vortex. Most of the group was forced to hunker down as best they could, trying to take some degree of shelter beneath the standing pillars.

"Nice try with the ash storms, Dagoth Ur!" Lex screamed over the wind.

Beatrice, as a wraith, was completely unfazed by all of this.

"Thanks, bitch! You made it too damned easy!"

She raised both hands as if grabbing something while assuming her monstrous true form. The myriad mouths across her body all opened wide, the teeth gleaming white even in the haze of the storm. The center of the vortex shifted as the true Darkwraith fed on the goddess' power, as it washed over her. Hardly a moment passed before Velka realized her mistake and quickly reformed at Beatrice's back on black wings. A quick slash was all that was needed to stop her absorption.

In the air, where no one could save her, Velka lacerated her incorporeal body with a perfectly thin razor of soot black with sin. Quelaav quickly took flight and clawed uselessly at the Raven's back, unwilling to risk harming Beatrice with her flames of Light. A moment later, and Gough had cleared the sand from his ears, but now he risked hitting the Daughter of Chaos.

"Must I save such a heretic…?" Gwyndolin grumbled.

Still, he took aim and fired a barrage of his own arrows, accurately running them down his mother's sword arm. A moment of reconfiguring her ashen body is all it took to remove them, but Quelaav took the opportunity to rake along the wicked goddess' back with claws alight. Beatrice quickly vanished into the darkness of the Kiln, and the Fire Keeper hurriedly dove out of range. Stunned and furious, Velka didn't notice Quelaag return with a massive bag of spider silk in tow.

"Quelana, help me seal her movements!" Lex shouted suddenly.

Velka landed atop one of the pillars, withdrawing her wings into herself. Her hands vanished once more as grasping talons burst out of the dunes to swipe at the prophet and the witch.

"Siegmeyer, knock her down!"

It took the knight a moment to find his footing as he climbed over a hill, but he quickly charged right into the stone, bowling it over with his immense strength. The goddess lightly touched down in the ash, but it responded like casting a boulder into a pond, sending crashing waves over those nearby. Quelana had a brief coughing fit to rival her eldest sister's but quickly formed glowing seals in the dust. While they didn't stop Velka, they did attract her attention, and she turned immediately to breaking them. Lex quickly rushed her, swinging his sword sidelong with a horrible jangling.

She deflected the attack nimbly by summoning her own sword, then ran it through him for a deadly riposte. Just as before, the injury had little effect as the Life Soul regenerated his damaged flesh. They traded blows back and forth, Lex's body healing a little more slowly each time while Velka's body of ash and soot reassembled indefinitely. At last, the cleric jumped back while swinging defensively, a weak bass blast from the jingling rings covering his retreat.

Velka dissolved her arm and swept a wave of ash at him, but at last, Quelaag stepped in to save her husband. She didn't approach wielding her sword, but rather something else entirely. Couched under her arm was a Londish decorative vase. She quickly put a lid on it and scratched a sealing rune into the top.

"Laav, another!"

She rolled the vase across the ash as the younger Daughter dropped one into her waiting grasp.

"What?" Velka asked, uncertain for the first time.

Then she looked at her arm. It wasn't coming back. As she grew another, she realized what had happened.

"You…! This is…!"

"Pretty obvious, actually," Lex said, shrugging. "If the good guys can't beat something, they always seal it away, right? And the ashes of the dead go in decorative urns. These have been lying around all of Lordran without any obvious purpose. Look at all this pot! Dank Souls has arrived!"

The contents of Quelaag's silken bag had been emptied into the dust. Countless vases from across Lordran rested in the ash. Lautrec rushed at Velka while she was still stunned by the cleverness or perhaps sheer stupidity of the plan, trying to grab hold with all four arms again. She quickly fled, at last opting for ranged attacks in the form of Dark soul arrows. Beatrice appeared again to sweep these aside as nothing before her own power.

Crows scattered in every direction, but Quelana and Laurentius began their firestorms again, limiting Velka's escape routes. Quelaav completed the trap by raising three walls of golden flame, leaving her only escape the trapped passage guarded by the Black Knight spirits. Priscilla chased after one of the denser murders, Gwyndolin clinging to her shoulder as a homing soulmass turret. As the birds were blasted out of the sky, she would catch them in a vase slung under her arm. Artorias, Ornstein, and Gough had no trouble lifting the urns, but Ciaran and Sif worked together to overcome their shortcomings, the demigoddess holding one to the great wolf's back as they weaved among the pillars of flame.

Of the humans, only Siegmeyer's seemingly limitless strength was enough to carry one easily, and he used it like a battering ram, charging blindly through the storm of birds and fire. The others made themselves useful by helping to seal the urns before too much of Velka's soot could leak out. Only Beatrice didn't touch the vases, instead using her monstrous form to draw many of the birds toward her, where the others could catch them after she'd drained them of energy.

At last, one final Velka formed, holding up her hands in surrender. By now, even her raven hair had faded to ashen gray from spreading herself too thin. The pyromancer duo allowed their magic to end, but Quelaav kept up her sealing walls just in case.

"You can't truly win, you know, prophet? My followers remain powerful as ever in Drangleic, Ages from now. Let's say you just put me under watch, hm? Better than locking me away to go crazy. Who knows what sort of monster I'd become – and when those vases break over the millennia…"

"That's stupider than the kingdom ruled by the pyromancer tree woman being connected to Nito. Someone grab her, and let's figure out what we're doing with the First Flame."

Quelaag was nearest and so lunged at her before she could react, swiftly righting the urn and capping it.

"Sister!"

Unfortunately, that final Velka was either an illusion or only the second-to-last Velka. Now, another held a crumbling sword of ash to Quelaav's throat.

"There we go!" the goddess clucked. "Now, release those seals like a good girl, and-"

After the moment of initial panic had passed, the partial Light Lord and Daughter of Chaos simply lit herself on fire, burning away her attacker. After waiting only a moment for Kirk to spit on the charred spot, Gough quickly scooped up the last bit of Velka and slapped the cap on firmly.

"I hate risk saying it again, but good work everyone!" Solaire chuckled. "Praise the sun!"


	64. Also Nobunaga's Ambition and The Guild 2

The bulk of the group stood guard outside while the decision-makers pressed through the fog to join Oscar in the firebox. Lex, Quelaag, Gwyndolin, Beatrice, and Fina joined the knight around the final bonfire. Two remained with the others. Nito had insisted that it was time for the younger generation to make their own choices, and Quelaav had full confidence in her sister.

"Right, so since the bonfire ascetic plan will take years to pan out if it even works, we need to think of something to do in the meantime. Or maybe permanently, since that plan's pretty much gaming the system and might have unintended consequences or not work at all."

"There is another matter to discusseth," Gwyndolin added. "Whatever we decide here, we must also make plans to deal with the traitor. She was not mistaken; our bindings on her are very frail."

Lex nodded.

"Actually, I'm going to take one for the team. Quelaag, that empty bag."

At his insistence, she'd taken the bag that had held the vases into the firebox with her.

"All right, just hold it steady for me."

Her husband awkwardly climbed up her back and onto her shoulders. He unclipped the tiny satchel at his waist and flipped it upside-down over the open bag before unbuckling it. Countless weapons, pieces of armor, relics, corpses, and miscellaneous items poured out of the tiny opening and filled half the bag. The loose humanity didn't make it that far, instead being sucked toward Beatrice by an invisible force. Only Oscar's firm grip kept Manus' Soul from joining them.

At last, Lex climbed down and handed the bag to Gwyndolin.

"Right, so stuffing all the urns in here ought to keep her from pulling a Rita Repulsa."

"Husband," Quelaag said flatly. "Why are there corpses in here? Do you really expect me to carry a bunch of dead bodies?"

"This is a sacred place!" Gwyndolin hissed. "Havest your marital spat elsewhere."

"You know, given the choice between Linking the Flame and leaving to usher in the Age of Dark, some Chosen Undead instead decided to pick a third option by poisoning themselves with dung pies."

Gwyndolin was unable to find the words to articulate his frothing rage.

"Now, now," Fina cooed. "Fate is funny sometimes. Calm yourself, my prin- no, my king."

Gwyndolin sighed. The empty firebox could only mean that the Lord of Sunlight and King of Anor Londo – but most importantly, his father – had finally been put to rest. With his brother exiled and his sister expatriated, there was no other who could rule.

"Very well," he said coldly. "Prophet. What plans havest thee to extend the Flame if not to sacrifice thine own life in the Lord of Sunlight's honor?"

"Right, so if you add fire to fire, nothing really happens. I mean, it's not like really dense or anything. I don't remember chemistry class. What I'm saying is that when you're adding fire to fire, what you're really combining is the fuel. Which in Gwyn's case was his souls.

But Quel tried to duplicate the First Flame, and _that_ Flame runs on humanity. The bonfires _also_ grow more powerful as you throw humanity at them. Why isn't there a Keeper of the First Flame?"

"I…"

Gwyndolin frowned.

"I was very young when Father lefteth us. I do not know."

"None could bear the burden," Fina said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. "Men cannot Keep even a normal bonfire. The First Flame is too much for any of your kind. The Lord had no choice but to share his own… 'fuel'… with it. So too did we who remained decide to directly sacrifice humans replete with not just souls but also humanity."

"Why didn't you just do that directly, though? How many souls and humanity have been thrown away trying to pass the stupid tests? I mean, Sen's Fortress alone wiped two whole kingdoms worth of heroes. I don't even want to know how many timelines were doomed by the Bed of Chaos. I mean, you wouldn't have even had any problems setting up the society from _Logan's Run_, where all the middle-aged people join in a mass suicide ritual on a yearly basis. That's got to be better than taking a long gamble on a 'Chosen Undead.'"

"Don't even joke about that shit!" Beatrice spat. "We all _chose _to come to this hellhole! You're talking about brainwashing all of humankind!"

"Better than turning into mindless monsters," Lex grumbled. "You didn't see Oolacile. An entire kingdom gone crazy like you did. Imagine how bad it'd be if the Age of Dark truly fell."

"My dearest has it right," Quelaag said firmly, leaning on his shoulder. "As distasteful as it may be, the plan that best maintains the Flame is the only real solution. Anything less is selfishness to help you sleep at night."

"Says the maneater who commands a band of serial killers!"

"We killed only those who trespassed and those who would not be missed, Darkwraith!"

"I never killed anyone who didn't deserve it, Chaos Bitch!"

Fina raised her hands and motioned Beatrice and Quelaag down. As the case happened to be, neither of them was willing to backtalk someone who so closely resembled their dead mothers.

"It is as the master of New Londo says. Such plans were considered long ago but deemed too cruel. We were sworn to uphold not just Lord Gwyn's commands but his true will. He would not have the humans be exploited so. Only… as time passed, we grew desperate and left more and more of the task to Velka, who would enjoy doing what we dared not.

We cannot continue as we have done so far, but we must also be careful not to make the same mistakes in devising a new solution."

"So I'm guessing the compromise of changing the entrance to Lordran into a giant funnel leading right into the Flame is out," Lex said, sighing. "I mean, that's kind of what happens in the sequel's intro cinematic that no one watches because it's stupid."

Oscar had been sitting in silence, weighing the largest whole fragments of the Light and Dark Souls in either hand.

"Lex. The first thing you said. Do you think it's possible?"

"The bug zapper for old people?"

"What? Never mind. A Keeper, Lex, a Keeper. Goddess Fina, could a human with a powerful soul bear the strain for even a short time? I know that when a Keeper dies, her fire dies with her, but perhaps there is some way…with these souls…"

"Alas, I fear only Quel may have known the Flame well enough to answer."

Quelaag smirked.

"Quelara has saved as much of Mother's work as she could. Perhaps working together, we could find a way."

"I think it may be possible, yeah," Lex said, nodding. "I still have no idea what Shanalotte is, but Keeper of the First Flame isn't necessarily out. Another plan of attack might be to investigate how time travel works. I know Seath sounded super-excited about it. Vendrick is said to have nearly unlocked the truth of life, the universe, and everything, so warping forward to learn what he knows might also be an option. Hell, he might have actually _moved _the First Flame. Not that doing that would help."

"If you wish to try, I will aid you," Fina said, smiling. "I wish to watch as fate itself changes."

"Having options helps," Oscar said quietly, "but Lex, you said earlier that leaving this chamber may condemn the world to Darkness. Are we going to risk that… or take turns waiting here over however many years it takes to find a solution?"

The others looked to Lex in shock, and he simply nodded. They were silent for a while.

"I will do it," Gwyndolin said at last. "I will inherit the will of the Lord of Sunlight."

"You cannot," Fina said, shaking her head. "You must lead Anor Londo. I will take this task and penance for allowing the traitor to run rampant."

"No. I will keep the Souls for now," Oscar stated firmly. "I am unimportant in such grand matters."

The demigods and knight turned to look at the others.

"What? I'm not going to offer to do it," Lex snorted. "I spent all this time trying to figure out a way to not throw my life away. You can keep your noble sacrifice fetish to yourselves, thank you very much."

"I have a kingdom to run, apparently," Quelaag sighed, "and I am hardly as kind as Quelaav."

Oscar nodded.

"Well, can't blame me for trying. Take care of yourself, Lex. I have faith I won't wait too long."

"You skipped me, you shit!" Beatrice hissed. "I'll do it, damn it!"

There was a shocked silence. Gwyndolin lifted his spiky hat slightly.

"Repeatest thy words. My crown covereth mine ears."

"Someone needs to sit pretty here and collect all the humanity in the world, right? Sign me up! I'll be your damned Keeper!"

"The mouth on this heretic!"

"Stuff it, shortstuff! The gods lose their power as the Flame dies, right? You just don't want me to be the one with her thumb ready to snuff the candle!"

"That thou art considering it at all showeth the problem!"

"Hold on there," Lex said curiously. "This might work. She's got Seath's bullshit immortality crystal. We already know that Dragon Havel was able to be a Keeper despite having dragon balls."

Quelaag snorted.

"Let's say it does work. Are we really going to trust-?"

"Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"I'm never going to live down killing you, am I? Fine. Izalith accepts. What of Anor Londo?"

Gwyndolin scowled.

"Betwixt a demon and a Darkwraith…" he grumbled. "So be it. The gods will that this Beatrice inheriteth the Fire of the world. Knight Oscar, back away from the bonfire."

The god interposed himself between Beatrice and the fire, sinking to her eye level. One hand, he placed gently upon her breast while he lowered the other to grasp the sword amidst the bones and flame.

"Hold!" Quelaag said quickly. "Allow me to assist. This is Izalith's choice as well, and the power may be too great for one without a Lord Soul."

Gwyndolin nodded grimly and slithered aside to allow her massive body room beside him.

"Sure, just everyone cop a feel," Beatrice mocked as the demoness placed her hand beside the deity's.

Ignoring her, Quelaag grabbed the hilt, while Gwyndolin placed his hand atop the pommel. The bonfire snarled to life, surging up the blade and rushing through both of them to pour into Beatrice's Darksign. She shrieked as the source of all the powers of the world burned through her bones. Her false form burned away, and all her mouths belched fire.

"Uh, Oscar!" Lex shouted over the roaring flame and screaming wraith. "Maybe we _should _give her that Soul!"

"Which one?!"

"The creepy one! Well, maybe both!"

"Don't you dare!" Quelaag scolded.

At last, the light died down, and Beatrice coughed black smoke before returning to human form.

"Oh," Lex said. "I was assuming that was a quick time event. Looks like I get to have Sunlight Spear after all!"

"Su-sure-" the wraith gagged. "Don't ask how I'm doing! Putting spells before others is what I do, you shit!"

"Well, are you all right, then?"

"Would I be bitching if I weren't, dipshit?"

He shrugged.

"Oscar, give her Manus' Soul anyway. That ought to buy us some time while we figure out how to get her a continuous source."

"…if you think it's necessary…"

The knight extended the writhing mass of humanity toward her while clutching the burning remains of Gwyn's Soul to his chest.

"At lassssssst!" Beatrice hissed, briefly slipping back into madness as she snatched it away.

The arm that held it contorted briefly, twisting to a shape even more monstrous than her true form was normally, but she glared at it and forced it back into shape through will.

"…there is only passion," she whispered. She shook her head and quickly returned to her normal abuse: "If that's it, then get the hell out of here! It's a pain in the ass to keep this shit from burning you to ashes, you asses!"

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Lex said. "What the hell, Quelaag?"

"Nothing about that ritual would kill us!"

"We're standing in the heart of the Kiln. Relighting it means… I mean, I didn't say anything because I don't know how Keepers work anyway."

"Well, I didn't-!"

Quelaag realized she really had no excuse.

"I thought the oh-so-mighty King of Anor Londo would say something if there was that sort of risk!"

"Surely, the inheritor of the Witch who did recreateth the First Flame would knoweth more than one who was born after the Kiln had been sealed."

"Get the hell out of my Kiln before you start your bitchfight!"

"I can only hope the attitude of the Keeper has no effect on the world…" Oscar said, sighing.

"Perhaps," Fina said with a wry grin. "Countless heroes followed in the footsteps of the Lord of Sunlight."

Nevertheless, they did finally start toward the fog wall.

"So, are there any more bad decisions left for today, dear husband?" Quelaag asked mockingly as they passed through the gate hand-in-hand.

"Well, we still have to figure out what the Primordial Serpents are up to. I was thinking we keep Frampt as an advisor because there's always a corrupt advisor, so I just figured it's better if we know who beforehand."

"Of course!" she chuckled.

"Just you wait! I'll show you exactly how bad I was at Crusader Kings 2!"


	65. Final Flantasy

NIGHTFLAME MOUNTAIN RESIDENCE

The war of the four mortal races against the everlasting was fought not just beneath the darkest regions of Lordran but throughout the whole of the earth. Gwyn built his castle and capital atop the highest mountain overlooking the First Flame, but many of his commanders settled elsewhere. As such, there were a multitude of minor, local gods even before the greatest of their number fled Anor Londo. Of these regional gods, one of the most powerful as the Age of Fire faded was the Flame God, Flan. Though Light fled the limbs of his fellows, he had built his power upon a volcanic mountain range, and in his own lands, he was mighty as ever.

It was to Flan's court that the Princess of Sunlight fled when her father's was abandoned. An alliance was sealed in marriage, and the power of Light was preserved over the dying world. Pontificate all he might, the Allfather lacked the strength to extend the Way of White beyond Thorolund and its neighbors. His holy relics were fading, and soon, his clerics would realize their power was derived of their own strength of soul. Only in the mountainous west did the gods reign as they once did the world over, and it was for that reason that Lloyd had sent emissary after emissary seeking the Flame God's aid.

Of course, when the gods found themselves suddenly restored, these visits slowed and changed from desperate pleas for assistance to mere diplomatic posturing. Little time had passed before the priests treated this duty as a punishment and hardly bothered to hide their arrogance. Having to come this far west, to the rough and untamed mountains, was a disgrace for a proud Thorolunder. Without the danger of the coming Dark, the schism between the Allfather in the center and the Princess in the west would finally begin to fester.

Only, before the decade was out, their attitude changed yet again. Neither desperate nor snobbish, for once they seemed as if they truly wished to resolve their differences and bring the gods into harmony once more. As the years passed, though, the old desperation crept in, and even the revitalized Church could keep the truth suppressed no longer. First the whispers of traveling merchants and then the wild tales of mercenaries – demons were spilling out of the north, out of Lordran. If the world was to endure, the gods must band together once more.

Or so Lloyd's ambassadors had implied. Frankly, Flan was skeptical, but something was definitely happening. Astora, Thorolund's northwestern neighbor, had always held strong connections to the church – so strong that its elite knights were all considered holy warriors. Catastrophic mismanagement of the Undead crisis had caused a populist revolt, and the republic that followed had cut ties with the Church and its doctrine of a monarch's divine right. Now, it was said, the Astoran senate debated moving against their former ally.

That, at least, was worth investigating. If the overbearing Allfather's commandments were abhorred, then perhaps a more distant patron's would find root. While he made preparations to send his priesthood to distant Astora, he moved to his easternmost residence so that he might receive any news a few days earlier. Though hardly as grand as his palace, it was an impressive structure, dug into the side of the volcano itself by the ancestors of the humans who lived in their primitive wooden huts below. The keep harnessed the mountain's power to provide every amenity, and as such, the small contingent of guards he brought with him were kept happy and alert.

It was not the sort of place that could simply be broken into, which is why the god was so confused as to why a hooded figure approached his throne unbidden while he discussed the Astora campaign with his chief minister. The bulky intruder's features were indistinguishable beneath a worn black cloak, and as it approached, a human rushed in from another entrance closer to the throne, panting.

"My Lord, an intruder has-! You! Reveal yourself if you value your life!"

The uniformed man quickly cut off the intruder's path, steel flashing as he drew his straightsword. He was a stern-looking middle-aged man with a sharp mustache and sharper eyes. Though in some disarray from his sprint over, his gold-trimmed uniform was clean and well cared-for.

"I beg forgiveness, my Lord! I don't know how this ruffian managed-!"

"It is all right, Captain Donner. You are only human."

The voice that erupted from the deity was a throaty crackle like sudden thunder. Though nowhere near his wife's size, he was easily one of the largest living deities, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a giant of Gough's stature. His short red hair was wild and untamed, and his beard bristled like flame. In contrast to his ruddy skin, he wore robes of ivory and gold to emphasize his status as rightful ruler of the gods. A broad smile crossed his broad face.

"Sheathe your sword, Donner. Come, stranger! Any who has bested my men is worthy of my attention!"

Though he said that, he yet still was cautious, leaning on his scepter, which was at once a greatclub and a torch. The captain of the guard wrinkled his nose in disgust but did as he was told, taking his place at his Lord's right hand. The intruder made no indication of having heard the deity and continued without pause until reaching the steps before the throne. There at last, it knelt, golden lining on the robe glittering in the torchlight.

"Flame God Flan," a woman's voice said flatly. "Your brother and king, the Dark Sun, requests your aid in subduing the rebel Lloyd and the human-ruled lands beyond Lordran."

"Brother? King? The Dark Sun is a she, and it is to me that rule passed. Run home to your fool masters, little impostor, before my good humor is spoiled."

"If you believe that is so, then your wife has much to tell you."

"First there is talk of demons. Now my wife is a liar, and her sister is my king. I grow weary of these envoys who think I am some country rube."

"You have never seen a demon?" the intruder said quickly, raising her head. "Let me show you."

She threw back her hood to reveal a face just slightly too long to be human. Two heart-shaped sockets held three eyes each, glowing red with the madness of Chaos. The rest of her features were human, though chitinous plates ran up from her neck to cover the bottom of her chin. Her brown-black hair was a wild mane the ends of which occasionally caught flame.

"Princess Asura of Izalith. If you refuse this summons, you _will_ be branded rebel."

"Izalith! Now I recognize that uniform! So that sorcerous mutant of a princess decided to cast her lot with the demon-witches!" Flan laughed. "Fine! Let them hate me!

Everyone demands my help as if it is owed them! They make such outlandish threats if I do not comply! How will you retaliate, little monster? What army can reach me here? Who would brave the mountains of flame?"

"My uncle has lava for blood and is four times the size of Lord Gwyn. I'm warning you: if you refuse your sworn responsibilities, you will be stripped of your deific status and exiled."

"An empty threat. Leave me, or suffer the wrath of flame!"

"This is your third and final warning. I have been more than patient, 'Flame God' Flan, but I have to visit your wife before the end of the week, so get on with your pigheaded show of resistance."

"YOU DARE-!"

The sound of six explosions rattled off in sequence. The reason for the princess' strangely bulky form was at last revealed as the gold-hemmed cloak settled again atop six naturally-armored arms, each holding a strange silver device ending in a long tube that smoked at the end. The god clutched at his chest as scarlet stained his immaculate robes. Soon, the panic fled his eyes as rage took its place. He brushed the burning end of his scepter across his wounds, sealing them and burning away the upper part of his robe.

"Of course it wouldn't be that easy," Asura complained.

The minister quickly fled and the guard captain drew his sword once more, but the god motioned him back as he rose to tower over the room.

"Heel, Donner. This creature is mine to destroy."

The flame spread from his torso to cover the whole of his upper body as he raised the burning scepter. He swung it with enough force to shatter the floor of volcanic stone, but the demon had flitted away on threads that could only be seen when they glimmered in the torchlight. She flipped through the air and fired a second volley into Flan's left arm as he was forced to use it as a shield. The god clenched his fist in rage and agony as his blazing aura stopped the bleeding and caused liquid metal to pour from the wounds. Quickly, he swatted at the threads, but even his great strength wasn't enough to snap the demon silk.

He decided on the second best option and swung his scepter through them with enough force that the demon was flung to the floor as they stretched. Even there, she was mostly unfazed, her exoskeleton having taken the brunt of the blow. The enormous god hardly had to finish his first step to reach her, though she fired upward into his sandal as he did so.

"What are you waiting for?!" she yelled.

"Don't worry, little demon! Your death will not be long!"

"Not you!"

A shadow dripped from the darkest corner of the ceiling and whisked across the floor. Only as it reached him did the god make out the impossibly fast thing as a second intruder in dark blue. A stark white, long-snouted mask was all that could be made out clearly as he quickly retreated. The evasion mattered little as the figure spun in place and threw itself toward him again. He swung his scepter defensively, but even that was futile as it fell down on all fours and lunged between his legs.

Behind his back, it slung a pair of curved swords to the ready, one silver and one black. It slashed at both his Achilles' tendons before dancing away and up the side of the wall. The demon fired her third blast, and with his legs so damaged, he easily lost his balance. As he fell, his other assailant leapt from the wall and dug both blades into his right shoulder. Abruptly, he lost all power in his arm, and his scepter clattered away as he struck the ground.

"Do you think you've beaten me?!" Flan fumed. "I'll destroy this entire mountain!"

"Fireproof," Asura jeered as she paced around to look him in the eye, six revolvers trained on his good arm. "Cambion, get to it!"

Donner, who had watched the fight without interfering, nodded and approached the fallen deity.

"You don't have to shout, sis," he sighed, raising his sword.

"WHAT!" Flan raged. "DONNER, YOU-!"

"Donner's a bit tied up right now," the man replied with a wry smile.

The furious god twisted to kick at him, but another set of bullet holes in his arm and a pair of blades at his throat convinced him otherwise.

The guard captain spun it about his head, and there was a strange jingling like the sound of bells. As it completed its revolution, it was instead a sounding staff, six rings spinning about its head. The decorated officer's uniform was instead a rather flattering gold-hemmed black robe. Donner's face had begun to melt like wax, and with his free hand, the young man wiped the last of it away. With one final chime from the rings, the staff began to shine like the sun.

Cambion, as he was called, began to float and quickly aligned the staff over Flan's heart. The god's body wretched as his massive soul was forcibly drawn out, a shard of Gwyn's at its heart. The sorcerer-cleric made arcane signs in the air, and a gray-black hole opened in the air just long enough for him to put the soul inside. Without that enormous energy to sustain him, Flan rapidly began to wither. The massive body that was the purest symbol of his might shrank until he was short even by human standards.

The demon princess sighed with relief and began reloading her handguns while her masked ally tied up the exhausted deity with spider silk. Cambion, meanwhile, warped space with the weight of Dark, looking down a different hallway through each ring on his staff.

"We've got about a minute before the guards come rushing in."

As he turned to Asura, the resemblance became apparent. Though he was much better groomed than the wild gunslinger – and lacking multiple eyes and an exoskeleton, of course – they had the same narrow nose, thick lips, and wispy eyebrows. More vital, the subtle madness of Chaos gleamed behind their red eyes.

"Report. We've collected the Flame God's soul and are readying his body for extraction. No human casualties. We'll proceed to the next target after dropoff. Understood. Yes. Yes… I love you too, Dad."

"Awww! You're still daddy's little girl!" Asura mocked.

"You know, this is why I always let you get slapped around before I save you."

"Oh my Flame, the two of you are actually worse than Mom and Ciaran! Jackie, you should be setting the example as the oldest!"

"Actually, you're the one who's sounding like my mom, Cammy. Are you really twins? Are you sure you're not my brother and Quelaag didn't just decide to steal a nicer baby than Ass-ura?"

The hexer sighed and looked at the images in his staff.

"Time to go."


End file.
